It was just a little while ago
That I knew the name of that horizon.
That crisp of land that lifts
Waves like new sheets,
Sweeps away wrinkled grass,
And cracks the dawn like curtains.
Beyond the rough sea was the beginning
That would lead me peacefully to the end.
Somewhere along the way,
The map flew from my hand.
It dissolved somewhere in the meshing
Waves like wet soap.
Scourges, dressed in lightning,
Covered the sky with a clap
And I fear for where I'll crash.
Because now my ship left
And the sand burns my heels for an answer.
YOU ARE READING
Blood As My Ink
PoetryEmotions, beliefs, dreams, and imagination run through the body. Like ink they flow through the vein and, every now and then, it decides to run out.
