She thinks of summer, the beach. She remembers the full moon rising above the water and shining a path from horizon to sandy shore, like the deserted backroads of a lonely night. She wonders if those drives are only memories of dreams, condensed into something far more infinite than the actual roads she may have once traveled.
Her boundaries seem to follow her everywhere.
She remembers sitting on the deck, looking up into all the places she will never visit in this body. Her mind drifts with the rising and falling of dark waves.
What is never anyway to the ocean that rocks her, the heavens that reach out to her retrospectively from that vista imprinted on her mind? It spirals her like a galaxy, coiling her longing into stars.
trails of sparkling dust–
secrets of ghost owls echo,
shadowing the moon
For earthweal, where Brendan has written about wild mind, the one that needs no device to set it free.