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Enter Poem or Quote (Required)Required The salt water baubles washes gently upon the jetty sent from lands distant. Pushed by a hovering yellow moon, sometimes built into thunderous waves of hurricanes. Change comes rapidly and dangerously as the sea meets yesterday coming back. It speaks to me and it does say, I give no quarter and furthermore I ask for none. As I stare outward at the placid waters I feel heaviness deep inside my chest. The sea has become humanity to me, With its powerful and hushed rage, not seen before. Heretofore I have been persuaded by wanderlust to skim the surface, to walk on by time without end, miss nothing that may be something. I linger here. The moon is playing peek-a-boo, reflection on the water seems sad. Stories are to be told, perchance to a much lesser degree of now. But not yet. Ink-black dark, I cannot see; even Luna appears quite uneasy. The peaceful lapping of water distresses me; I don't know why. Devouring soul? So tranquil you could hear a tear drop, or a salamander fart. My nose detects an exotic odor Arabian sand carried by wind. Wind words. I squat on the rock jetty, look for ghosts; probe my own. My intimate séance annoys what I have kept concealed.. I see what I see. The serene sea is a patient anomaly, so serene I fear there are things unsaid. The night bitter black when moon hides, I sense an oppressing evil attributed to dreams.
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