It's near and it's far. That arrogant paradox lovers call life. It's a beautiful lie for someone else to tell.
A lot of waiting for the surface to forget. For the stones to find the bottom.
the stutter of time as it chokes on these reflections.
the water without depth. the wind without reason. as time yawns to swallow us. a carnival of skin. a parade of gawkers to sample the madness. and the quiet clowns left to catalogue what remains of the circus.
the water is still shallow. after all of these years.
a deaf song. a broken crutch. gray colors choking the margins.
i don't know. never have. can't sense the distance. can't judge the weight.