I set my ear to the hole—how there the ocean rages on in violent little whimpers
But what is said, what whispers, in the space between the ocean & its crushing tide?
Only the moon knows. Only the moon. With all its glitter, all its pale pristine, all its faultering purity, its revolutions, its waning, its humble wailing, it listens to all the oceans of the universe—these whispers of storm & turning tides, how lovely to sit in silence on this precipice. Just listening, watching as night bursts forth, shadows & soft light.