Obscurity   · Midpoint   Still   Surrender

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· Midpoint Like a distracted mariner on a cloudy night Compass buried in some deep pocket while dreaming Of roots in steady ground I forget the old ways; Years spent learning the names and inevitable arcs Of human and planetary tides. Restless currents meet, Slow and bearing warm wet southern seeds, Cold and lucid from the north; Holding my vessel with equal caresses They cancel all movement While I scan the horizon for signs At a time when all earthly things Have gone to ground