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"Is this some cruel joke?"

"dense fog
the moon's tide of
silence"

--@poem_exe 5-18-15

Floodplain, ghost lochan risen.

"And if so vain the glittering Fish we get,
How doubly vain to dote upon the Net,
Call'd Life, that draws them, patching up this thin
Tissue of Breathing out and Breathing in,
And so by husbanding each wretched Thread
Spin out Death's very terror that we dread—
For as the Raindrop from the sphere of God
Dropt for a while into the Mortal Clod
So little makes of its allotted Time
Back to its Heav'n itself to re-sublime,
That it but serves to saturate its Clay
With Bitterness that will not pass away."

--FitzGerald's Attar

Microscope descending a staircase.