on the meniscus of being

the wake departs

in phosphorescent comb rows

that bow in their brilliance

to an ascending tide


there is no sin

in shedding the skin

of desolation

as i return the cascade

of fluid in my veins

to the rich sea

and the fields that weave

my supple skin

while sun gestates

and shapes the stellar wind

a deepening breath

the scope and depth

rhythm of infinite possibility


stars line the tranquil sea

pinpointing ripples

as they start

to catch the shredded heart

in the net of gratitude

the truth of celestial servitude

soul of the multitude

reclining in fields laid bare

to the nuzzling kiss

of existence


© M.G. Iannucci 2018

Art: The Serpent Lake by Christian Schloe

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