blurry focus
wind in my sails
from a sleeping giant sighing
and everything appears
to be waking up and yawning
without worrying about anything at all
divine accidents confides
the wanderer with no
determined destination
here he is unwritten in
the next page of every book
divinely blessed of whatever comes
with a naked face of a formless mask
he wears his soul as a torch
of deep blue light
as a veil of the world
over himself
and the darkness
of inner space
illuminates the footprints
of fossilized creatures
escaping the oceans to land
as he lifts from the ground up to space