On the remember* of the other shore, a mountain…
Alive and well like the intentions of a sparrow,
condemned to never know the north of south…

So wide, so tall, so barren;
unmoved as the existence, stern…
refusing any shipwrecked’s prayer,
for just a little bit of space…

A cave on high dwells empty,
as the perspectives of its former heart…

(What has become of thee, existence?
Where dwells thy spirit, soul?
Where is thy substance?
Why are thy purses empty, why?)

........................................

It’s back-tide, shore,
so time is coming,
to say the same
abhorred good-bye…


*conscious and deliberate reforging of a verb into (so far...) a non-existent noun...