Impounded feet upon a loom of sand Dune rising up, embracing tiny seams along your body. Weighing anchor and Relieving the burden of secret dreams You carried. Don't pretend to be yourself. Believing these caricatures worthy Of drowned wishes torn from sails and delved, Engrossed in flame through shallow, earthly Existences kept. The current is close. And trepidatious, your weak touch will cause The slightest ripples as you wade, your clothes Wet, hanging. Your life, living, gives you pause. Yet what of nature, belonging of men, Is tepid enough to curve the ocean?
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