Low in the distance,
a riddle ascends.
Where the rivers find the ocean,
where all boundaries end.
Where the streams converge in song,
strange patterns of immersion force.
But you lay the dreads in lines,
it's my blood that resembles the love that my crutches have released.
You're still nothing but a stirring of the sea.
If you thought to hold on,
the waves which in a blink are
already gone.
It's the will that lulled me to my foolish deeds.
Gone like the pain
that's here in front of God.
Beneath my wake, all that moaned the silence,
with which it all had ended had begun.
Let the open waters drink all your regrets,
rejoin with the oars.
Sector that burned to now all again becomes written down in time.
Was your mother,
and your job,
and all that you wrought.