With The Ink Of A Ghost

Idle as it seemed, trudging through the mist
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 Following the creeks, erasing dim lines on the list
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 Eager to arrive, leaving footprints in the clay
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 Reading rocks and vines, telling indigo from grey
 Telling indigo from grey
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 Scattered rays of light, on dust grains in the air
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 All berries in the tree, earn a steady flare
 
 Among the mirrors of the scene,
 Some appear frail and incomplete
 In a vast field of bales she runs
 From the deepest valley past the sun
 Opening up the vault to find spinning tops in play
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 Embedded nested yarn diverting from the gates
 But once the faint elusive moans evaporate in the morning light
 All deserted yearnings come to life
 Surface from the dark to realize
 How in a vast field she runs
 From the deepest valley past the sun
 
 All this time, witness to the changing tides
 All the while, finding ways how to make sense of all the lights
 To shape the winds, to shape the currents
 And the rigid hives we're living in
 All this time, witness to the changing tides
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 Idle as a wave moving out at sea
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 Cruising without sound, molding what's to be
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 Serene between the trails
 Serene with the time and ink of a ghost