Weathered words

I write an edict on a whitecap in a river when the wind is changing and ask them all to yield to what it says before it sinks. Beneath the shadows of a wiser building listed over cobblestones and qualms in morter crumbled they express disinclination to a shifting stream of truths. To my drowning words and gospel penned from inkwells filled with rain, they tell me that they’ll wait for better weather, but for now they cannot hear. They can’t accept that faith is just as fluid as the blood it needs, and all we’re really doing here is swimming in the rapids of another’s disbelief.

#amsterdam #netherlands

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