The patterns of the world wash in
Across the sands of mind
And ripple through the thoughts which drift
And scatter unaligned
‘Til gently rocking back and forth
Their edges catch and bind.
They bind and mat in patterns that
Echo those outside
To map the weavings of the world
That glisten, slip and slide
And change in forms extremely strange
Which shatter and collide.
We construct ourselves upon
These waves of sight and sound
Collecting from these drifting thoughts
An entity that’s bound
To shifting inside structures
And whatever runs aground.