With The Ink Of A Ghost

Idle as it seemed, trudging through the mist
Following the creeks, erasing dim lines on the list
Eager to arrive, leaving footprints in the clay
Reading rocks and vines, telling indigo from grey
Telling indigo from grey

Scattered rays of light, on dust grains in the air
All berries in the tree, earn a steady flare
Among the mirrors of the scene,
Some appear frail and incomplete

In a vast field of bales she runs
From the deepest valley past the sun

Opening up the vault to find spinning tops in play
Embedded nested yarn diverting from the gates
But once the faint elusive moans evaporate in the morning light

All deserted yearnings come to life
Surface from the dark to realize
How in a vast field she runs
From the deepest valley past the sun

All this time, witness to the changing tides
All the while, finding ways how to make sense of all the lights
To shape the winds, to shape the currents
And the rigid hives we're living in
All this time, witness to the changing tides

Idle as a wave moving out at sea
Cruising without sound, molding what's to be
Serene between the trails
Serene with the time and ink of a ghost