Life sinks into itself–
Instead of lengthening, it plunges into its own
Sandy base and gorges upon silkiness.
Runs. Ebbs. Pools heartily, time.
And one starry-eyed morning,
The shore becomes the sea–with the salt
Left behind encrusted into monuments
Of the excess of divers.
Copyright 2013 by Michael Marsters.
All rights reserved.