Look closely…

Look closely…

There—looming in the
visible depths…
‘words.’

What!  You cannot see them?

Sit here…
sit beside me
while the sun at its
zenith lights the pages
written in the fathoms—
those hid-den depths.

Open ‘your’ eyes…

Line after line—
verses pour themselves
in with the tides
only to be washed out.

New paragraphs expand
held in the curl of
a wave.

Washed under the surface
‘there’ lies the story
told  again and again.

Each time it is read
it becomes NEW.

As night falls,
the stars lean into
the flow of celestial tranquility.

In this hour,
a visitor, one who
holds what cannot be seen,

sends an invitation,
“wait, be still…
listen.”

A song bird
gliding upon the sea,
breaks the run-on sentences
of the hid-den night.

Morning beckons—chapters of blue ink
wash over the pages.

Look closely—
what words ‘rise’
to the surface
as you float
effortlessly
in the silence?

 

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