Here is another collision
of what is blown out with what is washed in
The tense grasp at control and the watery slip of giving up
It's like the sea
gathering all that is lost and drifting
and giving us what we yearn for
a second chance
a fractal big bang creating a fault line
feathered, fragile, already collapsing
You have to trust the materials
and let them define themselves
it just falls apart when you try too hard
There is a moment when it all seems perfect
like that evening, walking the tideline
It will be different next time you look
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