They disappear. They always return. The men who love me. It is too early to say if it is a pattern.
Sometimes I feel like the woman in the sea-cottage who holds the tide-line tight in her hands. Then I don't drift in and out like the moon-pulled sea; then I remain, present.
Sheath of feeling. Words groping to touch air.
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-oh, writing process- on Metaphor
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Why would humans move in patterns different than the rest of the universe, they might deny it, but the tide is too strong.
ReplyDeleteYou come and you spoil me with so many beautiful comments.
ReplyDeletePerhaps we are more like the tides than we imagine.
And, yes, Ira, the universe does have tidal patterns; surely, yes.
This little composition is Divinely Perfect~
ReplyDeleteNo more can be said than this~
save~it is as a vision on canvass
Blessings~