imperfect curve

was a time
of nothing mattered
but the changing
of the moon
moments held to shadow

I would wait

was poetry a lifetime there
and I too small to notice
ripples passed as currents
through these veins

in every breath
reminded of the sea

broken shells
around my head
a storm (I must be dreaming)
a ship to sail
from somewhere
splits the night

would symmetry
this truth betray
am I too far from going
another route
my soul has memorized

imperfect curve
(this sacred cup)
a sliver of remembrance
as silver shifts
to offer me
the moon