basking to remember little of the pool crawled out of
the pool's ponders
of passing present
and how future presents
of clay and ash
burnt in the kiln
to harden, to break,
to crumble and powder
for liquid lips to quench
their thirst for
earthen flesh and the rest
that stirs the waters
for memories laid low
and laden below with
weighty deaths, the births too anxious to wait to pull taffy trapped between what one believes,
what one knows in soul
the whole that all
fell into and from to
waken from the waves
crashing upon sullied vessels and rise
from murky cradles
the pool to birth
to forget former drops
that teared and ran from
flickering flames, released
and relented what drained
through grasping fingers
that stirs more than silt
the ash of deeper chasms
unknown to busy toils, all
too familiar to frequent
pauses taken throughout the day
no night nor day lingers
to dangle a toe in the pool
beyond the bath the ticks tock
and leaves fall and rot
yet all who have played and fought
are the endless tides of the pool
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