Perhaps stronger waves lie in the ocean,
Inconsequential on any other day;
In need of a shock,
A cold on you skin,
The sea breeze just isn’t enough.
Depart your shroud, your husk,
Become a shadow of the day,
Fall, downcast, in fluid motion.
Give yourself over to absolute absence,
Swallowed by the depthiest  of bays.

Do you ever stroll into the woods,
Wander and wonder and speak with the trees?
Wind whips up and whispers words in you ears;
Close your eyes till they open,
and then you stand still.
You have lost yourself to the world.
Can you be found?
Do you need to be?

I rifle through the contents of the room,
Searching for secret words,
Hidden in gloomed ink
On shreds of yellowed paper;
No, antiquated shrapnel,
Plain scrawling on the side.

Now they seem mythic,
These syllables tightly joined,
Hidden in books and under shoe boxes,
Paperclipped to the pages of my past,
Leave me only these remnants,
Still I will cling steadfast.

The burns, they will last,
Rope slipping in tight hands.
My feeble grasp shan't release,
Feeble hands of a feeble mind,
For love is a fool's errand, (hush!)
Or so at least says the cynic.