To the bottom feeders it all seems imaginary
like stardust fins weren't meant to touch
for they wouldn't dare feed at the surface
in dreaded fear of reflections once lost.
Closer shimmered lines others find their failure
like minuscule plankton easier for spirit to digest
than sweeping waves of success suspect to error
or love prone to scatter all the familiar waters.


I love your metaphor. I freaking...love this.








15 old applause
