The Will of Salt

A faltering dive into the ocean
The curled lips of the lie
surrounding that smile we let go
down the valley we walk together
gathering tides of mossy trails

It remains the greatest taste of the world
fissures upon Earth’s visage
a drift of steam through the vile state
the withering of the body
and the corruption of the mind

He speaks as if to question his own appearance
the stillness of the ground doubtful and alone

shuffle the beads
the strands of crisp residue
the cloud of forgotten fealty
incomplete absolution the vague gavel bonds
renders close haromonious convolution

a regular appeal to inspection
long looks from silver magistrate
eyebrows hanging on each pronouncement
All Colours are valid
All Votes are counted
No body has a right to die unloved
so you better get down to it
or spend an eternity with a question