This step has seen anger. It has seen bitterness.
It has tasted all the screams I have sent to the oceans maw,
hoping they may leave me
and be swallowed in the blue.
They never were.
It has tasted all the screams I have sent to the oceans maw,
hoping they may leave me
and be swallowed in the blue.
They never were.
Comments
as if testing the water.
It's been a bit battered by the shale- dented
and dinged up,
but it has character.
A need to find out what may be deeper.
The third step is the point of no return,
when the sea is simply too close
and the door too far to come back to.
Fish have nibbled its edges, and
it has grains of sand upon its top face that
wriggle like ants in the waves.
It feels lonely here, as if
this step is attempting to be forgotten.
to vanish completely into the abyss.
It calls me.
The crack, a cavernous hole in the architecture,
a ravine of weeds and kelp.
An open wound
that the ocean inflicted with its undying rage.
It was never given a chance to heal.
It simply poured salt into the injury
and told it to "man up."
The shale has eroded it beyond recognition,
battered until it is shaped the way the waves
wanted it.
Victim to the will of the sea.
It has accepted it's fate. It has given in to its change.
There is nothing left for it to do
than decay.
Rot.