Hello?
Is anyone there?
We're in a lonely vessel
on seas of a size beyond the parameters
of what we can imagine.
We're a lost ship
riding tides,
tearing through blue mountains-
Always against the wind,
always in search of home shores
that we've lost track of on our maps.
Our charts tell us
which direction to head
but we never see the horizon change.
We can't remember anything but this,
This constant sail toward..
we don't know.
We have no goal,
no memory of home,
but something tells us this is a journey,
and aren't those supposed to have a destination?
We see bleeps on our radar,
The same size and shape as our metal shell,
but our trajectories never meet.
Your heart beat
beats out a morse code SOS
but no one hears the message.
Full-stop.
There's too much interference,
too many seagulls stop our signal,
squealing and wheeling
in those empty clouded skies.
Full-stop.
The waves are too high,
The spray too loud.
There's a storm coming, always.
The clouds advance.
Full-stop.
Too much
Too many
Too high
Too loud
A storm.
Full-stop.
Has anyone seen the shore?
Have you seen the birds land?
Where is this home?
This mother that is supposed to provide for us?
Full-stop.
The waves are bearing in
like walls of barren grey doom.
The sky shrinks
The ground shifts
You slide.
You send your final dot and dash cry out,
out to the greyness whipping you around.
Too much.
Too many.
Too high.
Too loud.
The sea,
too wide.
A storm.
Full-stop.
Jan 14, 2015
Jan 14, 2015 at 3:20 AM UTC
Hello?
Is anyone there?
We're in a lonely vessel
on seas of a size beyond the parameters
of what we can imagine.
We're a lost ship
riding tides,
tearing through blue mountains-
Always against the wind,
always in search of home shores
that we've lost track of on our maps.
Our charts tell us
which direction to head
but we never see the horizon change.
We can't remember anything but this,
This constant sail toward..
we don't know.
We have no goal,
no memory of home,
but something tells us this is a journey,
and aren't those supposed to have a destination?
We see bleeps on our radar,
The same size and shape as our metal shell,
but our trajectories never meet.
Your heart beat
beats out a morse code SOS
but no one hears the message.
Full-stop.
There's too much interference,
too many seagulls stop our signal,
squealing and wheeling
in those empty clouded skies.
Full-stop.
The waves are too high,
The spray too loud.
There's a storm coming, always.
The clouds advance.
Full-stop.
Too much
Too many
Too high
Too loud
A storm.
Full-stop.
Has anyone seen the shore?
Have you seen the birds land?
Where is this home?
This mother that is supposed to provide for us?
Full-stop.
The waves are bearing in
like walls of barren grey doom.
The sky shrinks
The ground shifts
You slide.
You send your final dot and dash cry out,
out to the greyness whipping you around.
Too much.
Too many.
Too high.
Too loud.
The sea,
too wide.
A storm.
Full-stop.
messages lost in the sea's static
