Wordy Soil

In that moment when
The eyes are held adrift, a little
Longer that usual
A window opens
Into dark shimmering waters.
Contours of need -
The undulating edges of restrain
Are traced clearly
On a bed of sandy reason,
The grainy, abrasive soil,
From which erupt clouds
Of murky insoluble doubt
With every wordy wave
And conversational tide.