Softness comes.
The calm sea pushing across that ragged boat where upon I lie
placid is the sea's thin surface
limpid pool, blue the fountain.
Comforting is cool water.
My brow washed with foam and mist
cleanse this sun-parched skin
hot and dry and cracking.
Rise and fall,
the ocean's breast gently heaving at my side
breathes in the dust and the pain
and the visions in the heat.
Safety returns.
After the drought continues on too long
when the chaff has turned to kindle
and winds ride the land like furnace's breath, a frothing mount.
I will be safe
beyond the horizon where the hills burn in wild stampede
razing fields where lilies grew
splitting their seeds in the warmth.
There the craft I take,
just over the ridge
continuing where black rock turns to blue.
Yet still char fills the skies.
My eyes ablaze, I cannot see.
I tread across the plain
shouting against the tempest
to find my mouth consumed by ash and ember.
I shall be held.
When the inferno has arced its brilliant path
skin marked with words of flame
burning in retreat.
Who will be there
to comfort the raft
set to sea, carried out and out
on its way, my soul to take?