Who am I to rectify
passed mistakes and wrong turns
of anyone and you?
Least of all if they are my own,
shown in a light I do not care for,
nor wish to remember,
I will duck behind seaweeds
of my own green making.
I have but one voice,
yet it is always
breaking against walls
and indifference.
Fire will not feed on
the tail of good music,
nor will it feed on
the final goodbye.
I dare the eye that follows day
to ignore the validity
of all and the significance
of that which no one clearly
defines as profitable.
Streams are sedentary
when afloat sands
of no significant importance.
When it rains
it is as if all is given
a new chance,
an honest regress
into all that was all.
