the morning shyly moves away
in waves of mist and cream;
and i move damp with spray and sand
into a walking dream
the dimly cast horizon sits
beyond the veil of sight;
where time stands loosely, hands by sides,
and day melds into night
your breath i hear, your touch i feel,
as light as feathered gauze;
the scent of ocean waves and kelp,
as hope – with its own laws
and so the mists of morningside
surround and pierce through me;
the walking dream of one who’s still
at one with
destiny
