Ricochet
Life ricochets,
outside of warmth,
footsteps upon an enamel floor,
wrinkles cast in this idle stone
we sit upon and desire upon
a crimson distant moon. Flecks dart
and reflect, this embrace of night,
Nocturne aghast at Light’s disperse.
An arc of wave rises, subsides, just is,
and I am, as I always have been,
an echo of a belief, breaths of time,
seeking the limits of what we know.
We can step out or we can step in.
I stand between the here and the other,
taste the salt of the sea, vanish a little.
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