by Daulton Dickey

Light drifts on a wave as it flows through
The point where space and time converge,
A sea from which images are disassembled
And reconstructed
The waves converge with the maelstroms
Spinning in your eyes
And the point of the sea blossoms,
Blossoms—a model assembled
Inside you, a moment reflected and
Filtered by you
Then you reject it: you cast light onto
A wave and watch the current
Drag it away from you
More models assemble and
And the points where space
and time converge
Shift and transform
And they alter you
And you, them

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