Confluence



When our seas penetrate, there remains dissolved only  the salt of our memories
No more waves,no more movement
The wind itself collapses
Paralyzed by the ambiguity

Clinging to our ellipsis followed our seaweed
Only living traces of our secrets efforts
The time landed there, tangled with the constant current versatilities
There were swells, there were hollows

Sargasso seaweed clogged our tear ducts
On this lake where no one knows whether the sudden peace is not the shoulder of death
No count down, no cape to round
Barely perceptible at the bottom of the familiar holds
Some blasts
The last groans of presumptuous mercenaries suffocating under their disappearance






August 2014