
This Dark Tide
I concentrate, close tired eyes, breathe
Feel the air enter sinuses all of a rush
Surge down my throat like the North Wind a gorge
Pool in otherwise forgotten lungs like stagnant water
The accompanying rise and fall lifts a grumbling gut
Expands a chest with pigeonesque pomposity
Itβs all fake, but proves Iβm alive until sliding away
A moment. A dream. A thought. An almost.
This dark tide has infiltrated troubled shores
Revealed only by a spotlight moon, an inner eye, and sent scurrying
The clouds soon regather and it begins anew
This is the way, the looping thrum of existence
And I wonder: Is this really life

Nice blog
Thank you. π