MS-HRC-SB-7-4

my way is in the sand flowing
between the shingle & the dune
the summer rain rains on my life
on me my life harrying fleeing
to its beginning to its end

my peace is there in the receding mist
when I shall cease to ^{rest from} tread^ing these long
shifting thresholds
and live the space of a door
that opens & shuts.

what would become of me ^{would I do} without this
world faceless incurious
where to be lasts but an instant where
every instant
pours ^[spills] into the void the ignorance of having been
without this wave where at last ^{in the end}
body and shadow together are engulfed

what would become of me ^{I do} without this
silence where the murmurs die
and the pantings and the frenzies towards
succour towards love
without this sky that [soars]
above its ballast dust

what would become of me what became ^{I do what I did}
of me yesterday & the day before
peering out of my deadlight to [a] looking
for another

wandering with [me] whirling far from
[x] the living
in a [cracked] space
voiceless among the voices
cooped up with me.

I would love my love to die
and the rain to be falling on the graveyard
and on me walking the streets
mourning