Poem, by Marc Evan Aupiais
The perfect moment, perfection is not near,
Indigo clouds, make the sun, to hide,
Glorious Dawn, but dawn runs to hide...
And when I speak, I tell you simple truth...
Here, you'd hurt me, for speaking simplest truth.
My compass shows North,
I head into the swirling, shining waves...
About me, fins do rise...
And gills, draw in water, and ellipses, strange almost triangular forms...
The moment, of perfection... upon the terrible waves...
And in your dawn, I explore a bit... this kingdom, into which you let me in...
And in the privacy of your inner truths...
I recognise you, a triangular, elliptical shape...
With dorsal, and other fins, and gills to survive where I cannot...
And I leave the water, of your words and world...
And risk not your deadly ellipses of self-filled awe.
My blood, though it may spill, is God's, not your...
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