How many bridges does it take to cross-off the world
X used to mark the spot, we use graphs
When we stop and listen, the world we seek to travel already lives within
The peaks and valleys of where we've been
Turn into crystals residing in bottom of dales
There are multitudes in the facets and the faces
Eyes glaring into multi-universes
all contained in carbon, all contained in me.
Pulled by tides, dangerously calm like the blue seas
Bargaining with the ebb and flow of phases of the moon
Sometimes we look for the itch just for the satisfaction of scratching it
Searching for metaphor in our own lines, written yesterday and tomorrow
As a soul light and delicate wishes in a field of dandelions
Like how this poem would be in tercets if it weren’t so screwed