The Art of Depression

The waves come -

they have an endless poise

upon the ear

of crashing, crushing power

and too, a soothing lullaby   

 

always the waves they are coming...

with a gentleness at the dawn

and with threatening cascades

across the long night;

thoughts, irrepressible as the waves

 

breaking the impenetrable silence,

the deep immutable silent truth

that rages on endlessly

within the circles and the rooms

that keep the shells, the precious shells -

 

shells; keepsakes of sentiment

atonements for existence set adrift

scattered along the empty beaches

devoid of corporeal sense ...

shells’ depressions speak of transience

 

deep depressions within the molluskan form

tributes to creation; to existence; to intention

that sound the waves’ eerie constant:

Eros demands the moment -

While Psyche is...