Exercise 1


The vessel it rest in my vision

Devoid of any substance from which to carry

But I can see the ocean waves

They are beating at the shores of its beautifully chipped rim

Overflowing from its cliffs and onto – into my being.

Hot, then cold. It burns and it aches.

Filling me with its dark matter, its dark salty water.

It bores a pit, a void from within.

Darkness builds and I am left tired.

Tired from within.

Tim Grady
Writer, poet, wannabe advocate.