Ship to Shore

I am lost,

how to comprehend —

how to construct,

piece together,

a framework

out of that which

remains incomprehensible —

that which lacks any semblance

of structure,

which can never make sense,

cannot and will not

take on a shape

we can gaze upon

and give name to,

and then move on.

It stays formless,

and undefinable,

and we are

fragile ships,

each of us,

spinning ever more quickly,

succumbing to

the current — caught

in the tide of

a single long moment —

filing one by one

towards the core of that

whirlpool

which has torn a hole

through our pretended peace.

And we can no longer

live as if

everything,

every act,

each gesture,

each word uttered,

actually meant something.

We are going down,

and the shore has been

swallowed from sight.

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