Monday, January 07, 2013

at home in the field

Stranded on a horizon
He is the field. Without
ever asking, no longer
hoping to achieve.

What was once careful
is now only expanse;
what moved, still.
Stranded, as a horizon.

He will become nothing
that the field is not.
As if it was never meant
to end:

All demarcations
are the sum of his doubts.

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