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.