it was…

You could hear its pulse.

It was growing in tempo
shades of blue
bled from the sky.

Rising from a source hid-den
it furled its face

it brushed the surface.

Holding ‘a’ moment
it began to arch
like a feral cat spotting a mouse.

Then a curl—
Spun around absolute nothingness
it held
weightless permanence


into the rocks
it stormed
spraying infinite drops

cascading in fathomless directions…

True North seemed to wield its reigns.

All was still…

In the not so distant distance
it was making its way
again and again.

This living, breathing ‘flow’
will never be held back…

Its breath holds no ending.

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