peur de l’eau

As if I could capture you in my art. As useless as nets into the sea, the sea gulls still far out of reach. I try to evoke you, but beauty’s jealous dances obscure you. I can only evoke what you conjure within me, but even that is impure, untrue, solely by being contained within the hypothetical, sulking and smoldering husk of my soul. And so you are forever out of my reach.