"Do You Ever Dream Of Land?" The Whale Asks The Tuna.

"Do you ever dream of land?" The whale asks the tuna.

"No." Says the tuna, "Do you?"

"I have never seen it." Says the whale, "but deep in my body, I remember it."

"Why do you care," says the tuna, "if you will never see it."

"There are bones in my body built to walk through the forests and the mountains." Says the whale.

"They will disappear." Says the tuna, "one day, your body will forget the forests and the mountains."

"Maybe I don't want to forget," Says the whale, "The forests were once my home."

"I have seen the forests." Whispers the salmon, almost to itself.

"Tell me what you have seen," says the whale.

"The forests spawned me." Says the salmon. "They sent me to the ocean to grow. When I am fat with the bounty of the ocean, I will bring it home."

"Why would the forests seek the bounty of the oceans?" Asks the whale. "They have bounty of their own."

"You forget," says the salmon, "That the oceans were once their home."

lately, I feel strange... there's some definitely loss of objectivity:

everything is so interchangeable & everyone is so synonymous,

keepers of the secrets which seem tangible in many particulars;

does anything make sense? or is it merely aesthetically pleasing?

Conowingo Dam

What comes to you in the silence now? At least you are no longer afraid of the sound of stillness. Black room. Wrapped in warmth. No sound save for breath and the quiet whisper of thought.

Another night, in a structured space (house). On an open space (land). of a dimensional space (reality).

or

On a map, longitude and latitude, there I am. On the earth, spinning round, wrapped in darkness and warmth.

Breath softly on my neck.

This was a poem I wrote around 2022. I tried to recall it this morning and spent all day trying to remember anything about the poem. I could remember the feeling but not the words I'd put to that feeling with this poem. Does that ever happen with your poetry?