The Ocean


Life seems to be an endless ocean

Rocking my life boat in a churning fashion.

One moment I can feel the wave

Lift me up, higher than I have yet

To be, then, the next of the brave:

Me, I am thrust too low to get

Out with my breath inside

My throat.


At the Crest,

I am reminded of what the world had

Previously been, a column of fire in my chest

Burns into me. That wonderous, eccentric, mad

Desire to dance, and shout,

To create art, to live, love, and forget all about

The tossing hill, to which my clout

Will turn no ear nor perk no head.


In the Valley,

What floods my mind is the endless thought,

That what I am is a quickly enfolding alley

Of red stone, That what I think I am, I am not

Even close. These Truths have a death grip

Around my breathing pipe as I am encompasssed in

Water. Then, after being submerged, my soul drip

As my hair, and it seems that I am lost in sin.


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