Friday, October 25, 2013

Footing


Each of us stands at the edge of a sea

Where there is no secure foothold.


Sharp birds of the tangible world

strut in a dreamscape of vapor and mist.


Sharp of beak and sharp of eye,

Sharp of call and quick to fly,

Reality gives way to dreams.


Where there is no secure foothold

Each of us stands at the edge of a sea.