Dolphins peer through electric blue.
There is too much talk,
Most of it useless.
There's no truth in it, beyond this beauty,
The mirror of sun on the shore
In perfect alignment, nothing more.
The wind is purely itself
Yet our voices fill with it
Like bottles sounding water,
What we've been through.
All was lost in the waste of our journey,
To find that melodies from ghosts
Say what the grasses couldn't,
How they must become music,
As we must become truth.
