Everything appears endless because nothing appears to change.
Shadows shim the light when the moon is full. We go out walking.
I believe we will be here until days end and nights begin.
There’s no being to fear. We have only our own kind, our ghosts.
Walking is living. Our way is circuitous, untrammeled.
(2-3 August 2013)
copyright 2013 by Floyce Alexander