A stone clothed in the redness of the setting sun
Brushes the stickiness of skylike waters
Between the eyelids' smooth blinking
Marked by the breath of primal sleepiness
Unhurriedly sunrays plunge into the blue
As the eye begins to behold the unseen
Depth appears as finality
Slowly subsiding, reduced to motion
Sea bed forms the sole actuality
for the stone may not be picked up again
No-one muses on the picked stone's path
Nor images engraved on its surface
At times dreams could be broken and understood
like a descent into the maelstrom