Through pounding and constant spray
Smoothed, rounded, emptied, creviced
These shore-outcrops stand still- unmarked tombs.
Are they like the Isle of Capri-
sparkling underground grottos
crystalline stalagmites and stalactites
incantations of wishful dreams?
Do we end up glowing in the dark
when our bodies are pounded and
emptied of the previous universe?
Do we stand 'isole sole'
for millenia before
sunlight floods our veins?
Vacant of core,
Will life flow through our crevices?
Or, will we become dreams others
dream, or agitations on stormy nights?