Singular Mass

                                                                                      | > 
                                                                                     +
                                                                                   . lxt        
                                                                                  .
                                                                              hxk g;k xt,
                                                                             .
G = /\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/       / hxk ;tk ng;n xt,\
                                                                    \/\/\ ng,m, cl xtsb xt,/\/\/
                                                                           *-=+=-*-=+-*

                                         ng,m, cl xtsb xt, hxk ;tk ng;n xt, hxk g;k xt, lxt

Individual letters gathered together 

As a collection of tally-marks.

Their endless combinations shaded the sky 

Swarming in a singular mass.

Perhaps the letters were always there

Or maybe they formed in search of the Word.

The Conquerers' Meaning

__________________________________________________

The far-away words arrived as 

Distant-shapes on the horizon. 

Then, they were barely perceptible, 

Worn away to almost nothing 

But impossible odds. 

Manifest Destiny spilled the words across the bay 

And each letter stood out like the flags

Of a great armada. 

They appeared in infinite combinations.

These words, made of letters, were ancient vessels 

 --mysterious ghost-ship-- 

Carrying in their hulls an even deeper meaning. 

They'd crossed the shoal of time,

Which proved far more expansive 

Than anyone could have imagined. 

Later, we—the natives standing 

Mute on the shore—took notice. 

We marveled as the ships came two by two. 

Gathering in great numbers,

They formed and took shape. 

In our excitement, we didn’t recognize that the moon

Pulled the ocean tide inward, 

Thus bringing the ghost-ships beyond 

The reef that had hitherto kept them distant. 

 

Now they all gathered

And Prospero likely laughed,  

Knowing that the island would continue 

Being inhabited by familiar traditions. 

On the third morning, 

We saw their masts 

Point north like arrows aimed at the sky. 

They looked warlike and territorial, 

Overlapping

And dividing the seas from the sea.

Why had they come, having sailed across 

An unfathomably large ocean?

Why had they risked so much? 

What did were they escaping

And what did they stand to gain?

Along the way, many of their ships sank

With words lost and never to be seen again.

Others, caught by pirates, were likely sold into slavery. 

But those that made it,

By that third day, moved from the water

And landed on our beaches 

Like troops at Cape Helles.

Whose breath filled those sails 

And moved such vessels

Across the ocean of time?

We can only assume.  

And now these words make their way 

To you... 
I am on your shore

Surfacing as a thought

Of a conqueror.