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09/30/10 - (2)
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Home only four nights, from Lake Nebagamon, And already, I find I'm at odds with my life's eventide. Prospects of surviving my emptiness Are as impossible as rising to the surface of a nightmare And not being frightened for the rest of its death's life. My relationship with the lake has been a covenant of faith, Which I've never taken as a passing fancy with nature, Calculated to lure me away from my identity, Rather seen as a preview of my immortality, From water's edge, dock's end, shore's border. Tonight, my return marks the start of my demise.
09/30/10 - (2)
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