The equivalent of an island adrift
in a passionate sea: we are the rock of
reason sinking into what the senses lack
--imagination.
An oil spill that ebbs and flows against
the reasoned continents, we stand on
seashores next to angels; oblivious or
maybe indifferent.
As our answers give way to more questions,
we find ourselves wondering whether John chose
the wild or was it because he had no choice,
because the weight of the world is less urgent
under the open sky, or maybe
because he knew that we see best without the
surf in our eyes.
