out to the shore, where he saw
|The pier|
rocked gently as moist folds in the ocean swept
|Onto the shore|
floated the consciousness of a thousand men,
|Waterlogged,|
we struggled with our clinging vestments in
|The hours of twilight|
brought with them clarity, along with the tiny, celestial fragments of
|Glassy, marbled light|
dropped, crashing on the table,
|Now broken|
from their moorings, the lanterns floated softly
|On the breeze|
they watched him just as they had a thousand times before, while
|We walked|