Lost in Conversation

There is a river

stalled before it meets the ocean.

The unsettled discourse

laps upon the shore

as the rivers run dry,

and the waves stop crashing.

The ocean flows

with the clouds in the sky

as the rivers dry up.

The ocean is stalled

in the rolling clouds.

The river is stalled

seeking the ocean

of many voices,

random and pointless

disjointed conversations,

the ocean’s narration

taking time,

marking time,

killing time.

The drying river,

a brackish discourse

where heaven is a kayak

gliding above layers of silt

floated by casual conversation

salt, water, confusion

teeming with life,

where the moon swells all the stories told.

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