9 July 2023

By Philip Kuepper

So still lies the ocean
beneath the fog
it lies a liquid floor.
Or does it? Is it real?
Or is it nothing more
than my imagination?
I could throw a stone into it,
and shatter the liquid
glass of its stillness.
But I won’t.
It lies there in its natural state.
I need not impose myself on it
to prove it is. It is.
It is ocean, solid,
unbroken, and sleeps
the sleep of peace beneath
the deepening fog descending,
the fog become so thick
I can’t even see myself to row.
I touch myself
to reassure myself I am.

(1 July 2023)