Forges a reality
From the residue of the past,
That annoying film on the inside of the windshield,
A ship that can never quite retrace its own wake.
Weaves in some vague future hope,
The frustration of chasing the horizon of a planetary curve.
Crafts a kaleidoscope of light and motion,
The illusion of frivolous entertainment.
Finely wrought filigree,
Roots bound to stacked stones,
Where do you draw the line between truth and lie?
Like the bubbling thin surf, chasing me
As I giggle and run toward the searing sand.
Rip tide, that concealed undercurrent,
Sliding my feet out from underneath me
If I venture out past the rocks.
It takes one to know one.
Hanging from that Sargasso web,
Am I fish or fisher?
Maybe I want to be caught.
Photo: Leafy Sea Dragon By Wendy Rathey
