We unsurely ran, senses firing and offsetting strobes towards a glittering shawl, set low around a sightlessly curved neck of the horizon. Coastline on our feet, a burning beach on our soles, to the water then, for our souls.
Rain with delicate wings
Parachuting
Gently to hand
And in such weather
Even water
Is in search to be held
As I walked down to the water’s edge I knelt and plunged my right hand in,
increasing the rivers density, I watched my hand dance until I thought the river may
run dry, that my hand may never return to me.
I was wrong, my hand soon returned and it hurt like hell.
Then the river dissipated, cruelly, as I was now struggling to comprehend
dying among the scorching sand-dunes.
I Eat Let.ers 