Beneath the Ocean Floor
Disheveled as the fingers of morning
this sage in her sedentary stoic seat
needs no purge to enter gloaming
Ripped at the seams by eventide
with hair of finest wheat
she lingers fearless as the tide
Dormant dreams at sundown's door
chalk faced white as sheet
she drowns, in the ocean bellied floor
taken by the shackles of her wrists
on leaden feet
she walks towards the ether, in Gist
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