To the left of me,
the hills slowly recede
into the horizon,
vanishing infinitudes.
I look over my shoulder
and see the slumbering town.
All is stillness here,
atop this grassy mound.
To the right of me,
the waves berate the shore
and draw back into the ocean,
diminishing vastnesses.
I sift through the sand
and chance upon a jewel.
All is blindness here,
inside this watery pool.
Directly above me,
the clouds are tinted pink
and drifting elsewhere,
somewhere I could never be.
I wade into the river
and dip my urn therein.
All is tinctured with bitterness here,
where only I have been.
I dry myself off, and then
I smell the scent of rotten crabapples
and an addled egg.
Oh, these mouldering lands!
I shield my sunken eyes
like cave dwelling doves.
All is instilled with brightness
as light strokes my sinews.
