She stands on a platform made of moss
Gazing from slipper to sea
The day's visual repartee
Her mind made of string
She pinched one end
and p u ll l ed
Until everything flattened out
Except for the waves,
Relentless, heaving and expanding
Rising rising
It's not stillness she seeks
Stagnancy, no
Enlightenment, neither
The string slips into water
Waving along
A momentary burst of unity! lucidity!
Then, darkness
Such are the waves
Perpetual push and pull
Dark closes in
The girl gasps, moss slipping
She gropes for a firm hold
She pulls back, tipping tipping
The string snaps
The waves extend