BREWING

The remains of destiny’s marrow

at the table of silence.

Filled by famous mermaids

from the memories’ waves.

Time passes

in elementary aloneness

but who cares?

For the moment I endure

though always caught unawares

in the basic music of digression.:

the word “brew”a heavy progression

from “dew”,yes in the beginning it was

morning pure, a splendid lure…

then it sank into its broth,

it had to compromise with its own froth

and it grew and grew.

So we must brew

through whatever we are

cheered and checked by many a star.

While sighing back into the lost former dew,

in a bright drunkenness sometimes

in the wake of the stars’ thrashing miles.