Through Water, Uncertain
The dream of shaking night from branches of the invisible orchard, breaks loose the tide between broken land and open sky. Your casual stance erupts silently across my fragmented synapses with a sound of drunken seagulls crying. And the question brought out of this, is a whisper lost on the long, black breeze tunnelling its way through earth, through water, uncertain if the end is in the going or the coming of the light.
W. Luther Jett