Dreaming of Horizon

There is no heat in winter
it is too cold for skinny-dipping;
to swim into the horizon.

we picture endless drowning,
inside the heart of foetus
the motion is slow

we shiver in the sea
so frozen by ice,
haunted by rocky cliffs

that generations have carved
with tides of speech
with a slur of foam,

with a gentle wave
a spoken mother tongue
floats the soul out to sea.

With a whir of blackness
we become eaten up, standing
by the seashore we dream
of setting towards sunset horizon.