I'll slide into place the stones by the shore.
Cut with precision in decision,
Against the crests,
Against their roar.
I purchased this quiet from the merchants of trend,
Selling hardened elation,
Without cessation,
Without end.
All movement is time, for the one inside,
Guarding throne with heavy stone,
A soothing echo,
Against the tide.
After the sun I'll remember, when the shades turn cool,
How glimmering glass once carried,
Our wide eyed fool.
Better safe and surrounded, in a space of prediction,
Than to sink with survival,
Into azure swirls,
Into benediction.
Perhaps tapestries of promise will hide walls of limitation.
Perhaps the stillness will trade,
For my human reservation.
One more piece, one more push,
In opposition of light,
The glimmering glass will pass,
Bringing dust,
Bringing night.
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