Swimmer, Sleeper, Starchild

swimming in the sun
I'm carefree
a wave
a desire
a contented existence

the corona roils, black spot belching
to spew out the seed of life
skipping a stone across the heliosphere
into a void

I'm shivering
cold
alone
suspended in a block of ice

convulsing, then, in an enzyme wash
I fade away

am here sleeping
awaiting the distant day
when I can again return
evolved life
a new consciousness
to swim the beckoning sun.

Ω

WC Roberts  WC Roberts's website lives in a mobile home up on Bixby Hill, on land that was once the county dump. The only window looks out on a ragged scarecrow standing in a field of straw and dressed in his own discarded clothes. WC dreams of the desert, of finally getting his first television set, and of ravens. Above all, he writes.

Other works by WC Roberts

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