Across the moor
the bucket oars fall in
the long canoe drifts in silence
It's the only animal visible
A human heart and an urge
to get to the otherside of the land
Trick the madness that amasses in the temples
of the human head
The fog spins like cotton in the weave
And darkness forgives us light
We enter the boat and hear distant splashes
Something fell in
The moor rests silent again
as if nothing had ever happened
The ferry man hands us oars
tells us to sit tells us to row
But where are our bodies
Where are our bodies as the oars dip
roll and swirl through
just to pick up and dive through again
Smooth pitch black penitence
Something glides above us in the dark
Is it connected to wings or some long neck
The shore across seems an eternity
The oars follow through
Whistling ghost bodies all we have
Now somewhere over the deepest stretch
where illuminated creatures swim far beneath
The ones that decided the rowing wasn't worth it
Ones that have already adpated to some other existance
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