Psyche

Not always can we find,

in the visions of the seas,

the myths and the old tales.

Yet the imagery shines

from the tangled fern surf,

and the memory comes shadowed between

white rocks.

We begin retreating,

and the brightness is nearby.

We pursue the white trail,

and suddenly return,

with longing for myths

and quicksilver.

What we followed in day

was the pool,

and the sound of the water.

Silence in color

and the rocks of the sea

fasten our thoughts.

I do bid them sway,

to the quiet and peace.

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