the ocean heaves, undulates
gurgles, gushes, groans
it murmurs, it sighs
it dies
and repeats its symphony
to itself again and again until forever
on its own accord and in response only
to the reality of things and never
to you
because you don't move
you barely move
in hope of not causing a scene with some sort of impact
like the meteor that killed the ancient world
that's how dangerous your movements are
like a meteor
like Vesuvius
like the Flood
attuned with some godly force
to be reckoned with
is that the truth of where your ego lie?
where are you?
the Flood. standing in the Flood
maybe puffing out your chest or
really just trying not to slouch
awaiting some sort of attention
to affirm your existence
as if your sins weren't enough
but the ocean
it doesn't heave towards you
it doesn't murmur to you
it doesn't die for you
it just is
and it will never do anything more than
simply respond to laws you were born to question
you had a dream that you ran into
your blood's nest where He rest with your child
surrounded by vivid naïve memories
a quaint picture
but you ran in with a torch and wide eyes
and began to play
the cutthroat fervor of its potential at
blade point infatuated itself without hesitation
and spread its arms gasping and warping into something more laughable by the second
until it wasn't
and the whole of the place was the sun's firstborn spawn-beast
did you realize he was there
or did I fiddle and fumble lost in the drug
did I realize and return to the curiosity, nonchalant
because you were in control?
you noticed and sprang to consciousness
seized the medium to spare a life
without a breath because you know you would have choked on the smog
and bathed the rouse
the sun was set to dusk and ash
credit realized or taken, whether or not shaken
you struck a chord with your own undertow
you woke and You knew
what direction the current flow
and this
this is why you need the sea
it could redeem but it warps skin beneath
and you don’t want to set it on fire too
so you don't wade too deep
or kick or sprawl or soak
for much too long
don't take the seashells home
you moan
and don't pretend you didn't take what slipped
inside the creases of your shoes
you groan
maybe listen to it breathe and
take heed alone
so you heave
and undulate
it murmurs, baritone
you sigh
and die
left un-bemoaned
