A voyage, abandoned; thus,
for the saline is a blind truth.
And the open-eyed, sight of lostness,
remains the only vision of hopeless hope.
or a tiny trot;
Escapism, a delight.
Swim across by my shoulder,
Take a flight around my neck,
You could glide through my soul,
Gallop through all that I know of me,
And trot across what is unknown of us.
the shadow of the eclipse,
or the consummation of the meadow,
the departure of that intimate horizon;
Amidst all that, lies the existence,
known only to none.