Another Something

Perhaps there is another world, but it is in this one, where something silently waits for dawn and hides in the heart of a shining tide in a place where horses still harvest the sun. Before roads came like traces, it patiently breathed in clouds and leaned its dreamy spine against the thick sunset to bring back to us something like home.

Maybe as we wait by the shore this silent unspeaking watcher brings all into sand with salty hands that turn our souls into seagulls. Away beyond where there is nothing left to guess, each earlier wave born echoes the whispering more weaving hundreds and hundreds of rings of sunlight together before taking them apart.