My life, an intoxicated stick
carried carelessly by a swirling current
bows, bends, but is buoyed
by the sea that drowns it.
I drink; then close my eyes to inhale.
Soaked in the whisper of salty secrets
my lungs gasp for air.
I am exhilarated by the mysteries below
and long to float, long to sink
in the fluid embrace of dreams.
My tears add to the swelling tide of possibility,
at once weighing me to immeasurable depths
and lifting me above the crashing waves.
I have washed ashore.
She is real yet imagined and beyond reach
like the sea hiding in a conch.
Alone, I listen carefully on the wet summer sand
that I use to construct castles for our future.
I hold my breath and step slowly,
back into the swirling sea.