Currently, I receive energies played in waves above
plains sunken under progressive ruination
streets of rock run white with rain
washing and washing
ways for joy to fall,
waste washing down from heaven in rain
washing and washing.
Under their breath someone sees death and says
what of what I'm left, with and without?
While the next life in line with their hands in their pockets
can't help but just stand there and nod, in a
wave that continues to the rough edge of people
besieged by grief huddled nearby if not together in the flood.
I can't help but stand there and kick the water
while looking over my shoulder at loneliness.
Somewhere behind me, there is nothing.