Patience now’s
a more substantive
shadow, as in
waves changing
in the dark. There’s
an echo here, the ghost
of which is something
like a voice that grows
as it’s eroded. What
remains is listening’s
trace, a struggle
for another pattern;
a growing into
need, want;
a process to not
remember. One
learns this ground
through flashes of
doubt — thought’s
only matter.