The Rowing

Rowing.

      I a lay over water, stretching out

Tracing the rippling sheathe with my hands.  

  The water is luminescent, and sparkles tangents of sunlight out, in speckled golden bodies across the water. Tiny. 

A flowing body of God, bathed. 

I need for nothing now. 

Nothing more, 

Than this.  

The ancestors on this land, knew this.  

Civilization changed what we used to know, as breath. 

I miss the love everywhere, but then, I know this must be some test of the soul. 

Here, I am placed, here i remain, exist, exude, and be. Here, I Present myself. 

Losing, 

And loving, 

But never in defeat. 

I must remember this above all; 

That to love, is to know no defeat at all. 

Even if the world will chant the opposite in hypnotization.

Breath, a captured feat.  a string-along, and a "make-it-through"
WILL PUT ME AT THE BODY OF YOUR FEET,
where solely, I arise and die, becoming of the ground.  No more do I wish to live for a race, that will not live for itself.  Arisen birth...the passing of all, and in our Eye, we make it through...
through...
to another place..
and another


time.  gesturing.

I may carry this sadness through to any life...for it is stuck on me- in my flesh, and cursed, with eyes to bright and wide

for such a bitterly dark sea.

The depth has brushed the white, and now, it bleeds,
greying everything,

and everyone,

and the salty drop in me.