The Picture And The Path

The first time You see an ocean It stays with you In ways which You may understand Down the road;

It arrives in blue immensity A protean force of nature Or perhaps Merely a simple framed idea Like a passive portrait Of memory.

Either way escapes our grasp Unless we ask permission Of the horizon In words clear And thought persuasive; Reminding us of our place In the pantheon of things.

What if people Are oceans to? Endlessly unfolding Fractal lines scatter and grow Complex no matter how near Or far;

Shadows lengthen And grow fat with need, In shades of gray born dark, The quickened pace of questions Asked answered not; And the caribou moon rises And the wind has your name Taken in silence And you wait And you wait And you wait.