With The Ink Of A Ghost

Idle as it seemed, trudging through the mist Following the creeks, erasing dim lines on the list Eager to arrive, leaving footprints in the clay Reading rocks and vines, telling indigo from grey Telling indigo from grey

Scattered rays of light, on dust grains in the air All berries in the tree, earn a steady flare Among the mirrors of the scene, Some appear frail and incomplete

In a vast field of bales she runs From the deepest valley past the sun

Opening up the vault to find spinning tops in play Embedded nested yarn diverting from the gates But once the faint elusive moans evaporate in the morning light

All deserted yearnings come to life Surface from the dark to realize How in a vast field she runs From the deepest valley past the sun

All this time, witness to the changing tides All the while, finding ways how to make sense of all the lights To shape the winds, to shape the currents And the rigid hives we're living in All this time, witness to the changing tides

Idle as a wave moving out at sea Cruising without sound, molding what's to be Serene between the trails Serene with the time and ink of a ghost