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Poem

Building something in the water is so difficult
And when you remember that the moon pulls the tides, it becomes a game of time and chance
It's fickle and it's tiring fighting the salty waves that lap the skin off of your ankles
And you build anyway because you've been walking through forests of rocks for the past few years and the water seemed the safer bet the closer you got to it
And what you build is strong, but is going to be ripped apart by the sea spray and kelp anyway
And you know that
But you build anyway
And then, when you die, there will be nothing left of your structures or yourself and no one will remember you and that's ok
Because water has memory
And she may not speak, but the ocean can tell the difference between your tears and her depths
And building on the water is so difficult, but you do it anyway because you miss your rock forests
And hopefully, one day, you'll go back to them
But you'll return smelling like the sea

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