Saturday, September 5, 2020

Surfers

 Imagine. Ripples in time,

And us, surfers; sound and light,

Gliding into what we foresee

Only to be driven back, without mercy.

Imagine. Roads within abyss

And hunger relaxing into promise.

Imagine. The symphony backwards.

Imagine. The origin. The afterwards.

If the worlds seem to collide,

Remember the waves, and the laws behind.

And if for continuity, doubts arrive,

Imagine. And bygones will come back to life.


Imagine. Then. Now. Time.

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