Like two islands that reach out of their isolation
and capture one another in an eager pose
above the tumbling currents, we leap
all reasonable stirrings of a particular moment.
Whose rocks tower over us, we do not break.
We are nested in their salty crevices
echoing through the thunderous wave breaks
with a curious fear.
To inhale: to dream.
A potency: a gleaming blue.
The sun sets on the old world.
And the canopy of stars is no longer an illusion
but a fertile anchor upon the wild seascape.
Copyright 2011 by Michael Marsters.
All rights reserved.