Sing on sing on, from depths of dysphoria, moody gloria, a lake in the sun. From desert highland, sutured from dry land, aqua green, the devil hides one. The veil of creation sits on the banks to the east, looking on westward the rock of the ship turns and blinks. Pollution dried from the power of the sun. A service to some, a harbinger of days come undone. Taste the water swim into depths to believe, dark doom colors underneath. Brackish films of secrets of done filthy deeds, bodies may hidden awaiting none can stay. Rise on mist waters higher near heaven this eve. Dare the spirit of time to receive. At times a full moon has risen and shown your watery disease, and still this lake so still just like the Dead Sea.
Boil on, tank up, in power of your alchemy, wash all your sins, and see them still stay, Morgan, Morgan, a lake of your future, a past undefined, with liquid that’s waste. Year after year the water looks at the sun, it pays to scheme, and wash all your poison away. Still it does seem a cooling water, San Diego must have power this day. Somewhere in March, somewhere in February, your waters heated, seventy-five degrees every day. Could it not be, oh lake of green waters, you wish the power plant away. Leave me be, let me be gone in decay. Shore to shore, a veil of oxygen, elemental, carbon from water, still so still, no river to wash silt away.
Water for reason, liquid in sum, heated and cooled, over and over, lake I remember, can you be healed someway? Is your future the end of all age of days? Can the sun look down, and taste you, brine and fatal, venom from people, can you move forward, water from water birthed eternal singing immortal and play? Will you look toward the ship and play, someday? Will you look toward the ship and play, someday? 05.31.2015 – דָּנִיֵּאל