Into the moulds of sea moss
I lurched in the unwarranted
dusty laden storm, across
the thrust of rocky ledges
lay essence of dead grasses.

I followed its footsteps
from muskeg to muskeg,
perished in the storage
of peat and smoke, I walked
slowly, with weltered questions ….

Once a tree, the girth of the log
I could embrace with shame, today
its befallen pride lay dead
in a cabal of destiny or shall I say
observe … His matter of fact play ….