I am not passionate or impressive here,
But dry and dead - or alive as some ghost -
Uneasy -
Where we flounder and you await some fun
To be shown to you, through me.
We breathe, where underneath -
In me, everything is tangled and the mind so vast
Like a sun burning in, but down among
These shadowy, shaping waves -
Dictating what should here and there, be done
To reach you and to attract you and to carry on
Stumbling over trinkets all around these old rooms...
Wherein real ghosts are meant to care, or mourn
Our clumsy, strange restriction in their legacy of air
We share and now say nothing in.
YOU ARE READING
Gathered on This Beach: Poems & Perspectives for a Converging World
Puisia student's writings, inspired by nature and science, and accumulated throughout the early days of the Internet, these writings explore expectations for the expressive 'convergence' to come. (revised edition 2014, with some alterations) ALT. BLURB: ...
