turning the tide

turning tides that rise without lunar gravity
can be difficult.

the soil underneath – never quite ready for harvesting -
should be serving as vital nourishment for
leafy greens.

giving way to the ruptures robs all of the potential -
the reaping is a raping of concealed talent,
dormant seeds.

the kinetic nature of the roll is so enticing
to the mind, anyway. we love the oscillation,
the repetition, the simplicity of the curl.

meandering thoughts, twisted frows, ringlets of our once brilliantly straight locks.
all that was elementary is now purely concocted discontent.

so, I turn to the sky, as some have before,
and look out past what limitations the eye can see.
I search for what celestial body will rise with the twilight hours
to turn back that tide and recede it into the darkest depths
of our failing experiments where it, hopefully,
is swept into the compounding new waves
of hopeful ingenious talent
that will save us all.