I Am Leaving
Somewhere a moon rotates its white luminous form,
Drawing within the dark liquid the route for my leaving.
And so almost upon a shore, my body is gently withdrawn.
I feebly fight - pulling with me stones and grains of sand and little shells.
But here, there is nothing I can grasp,
No resting place upon which my memory can clasp her fingertips.
I roll back in submission to un-certainty.