Sometimes I dream

Sometimes I dream
of throwing stones
of rage and sorrow
onto an ocean of time
and I see them skid
on the bright blue-green
and disappear
where the sky combs
the white hair of the waves.

I pick up more
from the multitude
of this shore I am warming,
I pick up some more stones
and send them flying,
they kiss the watery sun
moved by the waves,
and caressing the sea-skin
they leave my sight behind.

I then sit down
on the stony beach
and I start to wonder
behind the darkness of my eyes
whether there is an end to all,
to these flat white stones,
to this sea-side shore,
and where will I sit
when they'll be here nomore.