Ginger Ale

About to fold my sail, the eastwind from the north came and swept my ship into a dusty bluff. I howled like a steed fleeing without its missing leg, plunged like gold coins into a salty well into the great wheezing sea. A delirium sunk me further until the sun was but a wink and the wind a whisper. I closed my eyes for the tides would surely bring me once again to surface. The winking sun became a heavenly stare the winds a chorale and the tides a thousand hands snapping me from a delirious stasis I took a breath and inhaled the whole world and all the suns.