time recedes like a tide over my feet sweetly cold with salt crystals too nimble to hold; the clear body of occurence reaching in brief rushes tumbling with reward, boredom and crisis breaking at my ankles to exist on the shores of consciousness - beached for what feels like the breadth of a bead as it pulls back the way a lover’s hand must if she’s to make it back into the city before morning.
joy rolls in waves; floating a ways out we wait for it to invade sands bleached dry restoring them dark and damp with enough ply to splash in and rinse the hands but so does misfortune - an inherent drawback hindering our earth from being considered a heaven; a menacing current ripping us from our element - a punishment of stranding despite the gratitude committed to toss lost like driftwood in the madness of clear mountains inverting into foam valleys.
blisswrecked; and sinking at a speed growing as times further into the Sea - causing me to treasure at abyssal altitudes the currents I had an overhead view of, now buried in the sun’s glare torching the water silver, I strain to see the raw crisp our currents had and the burning salt of happening and wonder how long it’s been since the horizon was close enough to swim in. ships of certainties and stillness discover the grave of the chest as it’s drawn by the gravity emitted falling out of Now’s orbit - pushed into the grains the glass’s upper half hailed unable to surface unless what has sunken is called to sail once again over our ankles.