I was fishing,
And the knot in my head exploded
Into dying light
As I fashioned
.
That
All these little fish
Were waiting,
Were
.
Mobile unto being
At my beck and call,
.
And just as the druids
Danced before dying,
.
I’ll stand before the flood
Like a fly loosening up
For its own mortality,
Seeing true colors and
Remembering.