Sight and Sound
The wave caught my eye—then broke, as if it couldn’t hold.
A single grey cloud lingered, swollen, refusing release.
Sand in the wind needled my skin—proof I was still exposed.
The howl of it leaned hard against the path I chose.
Blue bled downward, sky dissolving into shifting ground.
Nothing held its place.
Nothing seen.
Nothing heard.
And above it all, the sun—
fixed, distant—
indifferent
to the failing of my sight and sound.
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