The Weakness

There was always
A weakness in the argument,
Time or religion or bed-time,
No agreement ever in any argument
Because nothing can be agreed
As long as the world turns
And writing deciphers riddles
And makes them.

I cannot cope
With my own echoes.
They are too loud
And obvious,
Easily-read runes of pain.

We had a wonderful time
At the edge of the sea,
Barely drowning
When we wanted to run,
When we had to escape
What we were afraid of.

And the shapes change
Because our hands change
And we alter not just ourselves.

R, 02/07/2015