This Side of the Horizon

The care with which you listen is informant of how thin the chatter rings

Through rehearsal, self-correction, you improve, but your inflection playback stings

Gazing square into the void, equally bored and paranoid

Nothing built, nothing destroyed

The strength with which you care will govern whether you can navigate the fog

And if continental shelving grounds the coordinates that you steer toward, carry on

But if leagues of gray feel fine, let the rudder bend with time

Along an unforced, crooked line

The pauses you allow between the sins and the confessions make you shy

First in nervous hesitation, then deliberate preservation of a lie