of awareness for a spark
buried in the chest of an ark
at the bottom on an ocean
called unconsicious
tiresome yearns for the isle
of earnesty and truth
beaches abundant
with grains of faith
too elusive for attachment
grasping for a miniscule
immensity,
weary for a stand upon
diminished to be hidden
by gaps, agasp for air
and the clarity of here
again at a loss to the chaos
of the unconscious toss
i return to rest ahead
upon the moss atop
the rock of reality
what more could there be
but the enlightenment of day?
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