Summer, and the murmur of distant thunder,
catalytic echoes of ancient epochs
fracturing against an emerging future,
broken, perfected;
miles, salty miles of mirthless meaning
shatter up against the impassive quarry
merging into surfaces rough with silence,
voiceless and urgent.
Here our reckless life is a rock protruding
into the abyss of a grinding present
worn against the world like a tooth, abraded
moment by moment.
Shining stone and flowers surround this quiet
sea, this battered anchor, alone in rawness.
Why is it the center? What law has made it
everyone’s heart?