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