“Have we
missed the tide”?
Sitting
by the busy, roaring shore,
Fothy tidal waves,
splashing
As if against our
preconceived
Adamant attributes: I bury myself
In the ageless
aeon of marooned days
And agitations, mystifying us.
Yes. They are Dashing, still
The crabs
are unharmed.
Perhaps they
fortify
their sandy
mansions .
They are happy
in their ancient
Friendly, seamless salty borders,
watery Abode of fathomless
Caves and
coves tricky and swallowing.
Some
where some question in my
Conscience, hangs; have we missed
that tide?
Particular tide
steering our life
Into a safe mode, fighting against
All slings
and arrows.
A sage
plays on his flute, immersed
In his Divine
notations, as if foresees
That tide
will return soon
and sure.
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