Hello there
familiar stranger...

Between the waking hours
and persistent unsleep,

you’re still
as much as the chaos
in my head then
as you are now.

.
Morn’s lingering mist...
Silently skimming
off the water’s edge.

          Deft tendrils reach out,
          to playfully
          taunt and tease...

Digging and uncovering...
Like a slow and worn...
But trusty dredge.

          Unearthing unwelcomed
          memories of (c)old,
          like an abrupt winter’s breeze.


.

Ernest prayers,
as it always would begin...

     “Eddying echoes...
     Be not my foes.

     Let sand under feet,
     be kith and kin.

     Let arms that toil,
     be hands that sows.”

.

A vessel

with no harbour...


Adrift with its anchor.

That had dangled and swayed,

almost mindless...


As if caught in an entrance -


in the spell
of persuasive currents.

When the periphery is muted,
one walks the precipice -
long and narrow.

Open minds are fenced in;
And are inadvertently confined
to hushed tones
and feeble babbles.

Life then ceases to be a journey...

But rather,
                 a recurring commute.