Tipping Points
And every detail done
Imposes weight inflicts
Toward a tipping point
Some life, bending the curve of time
Toward some unsuspecting end.
The way the moon looks different in the morning
When sunrise strikes, alarms its other side
Ships turn their faces to the harbour in some protest
Against the pull and tug of ebbing tide
The light waves long and stretched through morning air
Strikes blue on the unaware.