Painted in a weaving blue that stretches into darker seams,
Laced in threads of light that march across its face,
The deep expands to sit upon my sight,
It's heavy now to scarcely see its breadth.

Silver scales and scattered rocks,
I step into the blue but it surrounds,
A column falling down until it locks,
Upon my body that within its push rebounds.

The bastion of these fleeting notes,
Man's autograph crusted in the mold,
Claws up in concrete limbs and cobbled scales,
To kiss the clouds and blue sky's cold,
To praise the trees for all their heights,
More fully praise the blacksmith old,
Of valleys low and churning lakes,
Of fluttered trees and high hills bold.

Thrown upon the waves to the pulsing sun,
Adrift afar and I am where I once was not,
The wind marches over dunes of water beside,
Falling like sand figures returning to the dust,
Force and valor take upon my ears like gloves,
But slip and scatter beneath the waves again.