The Deep Ocean of the Mind

THE DEEP OCEAN OF THE MIND The warm pebbles touch my foot, my sole, In the turbulent shallows of tide and wave. My waking self feels the moon and sun pull. And hidden in shells are beauteous oyster pearls Of a magical lustre seen in watery dreams: Galleon bullion from a billion seagirls. But in murky muddy layers, the hates and loves Of embedded past events undisturbed Cloy the skeletons in cupboards of past lives. Pressing my sleeping soul on the seabed dark: Beyond the headland and my protective shell, Cold-blooded reptilian monsters lurk. In this unmanned land far from the help of mermaiden, Tentacles grope up from the bed trying to reach the surface: Threatening to expose what’s hidden. Grand dreams are ground down, drowned, and end as sands In a dark land oft-sifted by watery muses, Where new events sink to be added as new oozes to old beds. In these sands of time of the weighty deep sunless, The tide of current events has no pull. Only memories exist : the fossil remains of my history timeless. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . (Form of this poem is tercet with slant rhyme) . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .