Nothing seems large enough to limit rage,
each hour awake is measured in raw pain,
while sleep, though silent, shows no lasting gain
in face of how letters fade on the page.
Each day, the Sun announces a new stage
on the human voyage through ceaseless rain
towards a novel part of the vast main,
with encrustations unique to the age.
The rod and line cannot themselves alone
move fresh-caught fish directly onto land.
They need direction from a true lodestone
into the grasp of my restraining hand
that places and constrains them in the zone
above the damp, so sharply glowing, sand.
No comments:
Post a Comment