In this perfect
circle of life, I wander aimlessly;
the lost traveler in search
of the edge of time,
patrolling the stars in an endless sea.

I am floating on a raft;
the salt fumes rise from the water,
burning my eyes and
taming the soul. And still, I cannot
let go of the memory.

We all hide things.
So I let my desires slip through
the sidewalk cracks,
fall deep to wreck on the ocean floor.
And I say, let there be no excavation:
The value was lost so long ago.