Sunday, April 1, 2012

empty spaces terrify

From aimless seas
islands loom
like clouds.

They call to us,
weary sailors all,
and promise
soft sand, palm trees,
and beautiful natives,
lusting for new blood,

better than this interminable dance
of crest with trough,
azure fusing endlessly
with the unbroken
cerulean sea.

For, you see, we love enclosures,
tight, soft places,
cushions beneath our feet,
shadowy corners,
smoldering coals.

In dark rooms
our eyes grow wide
and summon forth
mystic sight:

ethereal forms,

dancing light.

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