My heart moves.
Blood & water
separate & the rest
flows from my
eyes.

I blink rivers.

My moon-heart pulls
at the air-tides &

I breathe

Fire.  It burns in me & I pour
water on it.

How can tears put out fires?

I am made of simple things:
Water, Air, Fire, Earth
& feel the ground through my fingers
& my shins.

When the tide goes out,
I walk on the ashes that are left of me;
Lukewarm footprints
filling with salt-water;
flooded,
even at low-tide.

The meaning of it is beyond me, but
I am here now.

Again I understand
that I can only stay & fight
when I find my heart.