The Source

 

She dreams of waves

crashing like teardrops

on a glass tabletop

rolling rolling

ever onward

ever downward

the froth

the spray

in the night

through the day

tumbling rolling

fragments

memories, shards

swirling

forever churning

sweeping her

ever onward

ever downward

yearning

back

to the source

 

© Copyright 2006 Ajanta

 

 

 

 

 

 

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