A shell on the shore
of another world, a moon (or is it two)
so distant yet still a burden.
Begin this journey
she says in an eloquence so desperate
it brings a smile.
I am a harbinger if my own misfortune
We consume a delicate sauce of intricate
ingrediants lost in a spell of transmission
between this world and whatever we
I speak but what is it worth. Just a reason
to return endless to a shell
along a beach
adrift in a dissolving consciousness.
The second moon recedes
in continual witness.
There is a fabric which rips and is thus much
Say to me my wrong stance.
A shell on the shore ponders.