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Poem

The twisting and turning snatches of light are back on the wall
I can't decypher them - they don't have messages within 
There's more to be known from snatches of caught words than prepared words
The truth of course lies no where
Just as it's impossible to understand the ocean fully from looking at the waves or the undercurrents
Funnily - both the waves and the undercurrent are dangerous to weak swimmers
And that's what I consider myself
The motive of the ocean is a mystery to me
I'm safely standing on the shore trying to understand why the ocean holds the jellyfish aloft ~ offering ultimate praise...
The jellyfish is dead on the beach soon after
I can't decypher it of course, it's cryptic - perhaps not even for interpreting
It's wise to mistrust the ocean
It keeps me safe
So I don't look to it for messages to raise me up because the jellyfish are welcome to it
Plus the beach seems citrinely soaked from all the elixir of enticing excitement brought about by the jellyfish exercise and it ceased to be entertaining entirely for myself as a weak swimmer with a strong bladder

So, as the egg custard shaded sand is mocked by the sprinkling of nutmeg ~ I myself am mocked my echoes whispered on the wind. The sand is jelly fish free today but there are messages in the flaked pastry that fell from the bakery's paper bag. Only a fool would sit trying to read the teacup of life where the messages are left in stray pie crusts ground down to be themselves just granules indistinguishable from the sand itself. Yes, only a fool... the citrine substances dried, became dust that joined the sand - the whole thing is perhaps rather gross if you put it under a microscope ~ but I won't do that... no. It would be weird. I'll just mind my own business.

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