sea waves blue, smooth as a silk sheet are gently lapped by chilly December air my skin prickles as the air leaves goosebumps on my bare arms. i try to ignore them as the frosty gale bites into my clothless skin.
boats are tethered to shore, no longer roaming far at sea, they have a home at least though only temporary, but a safe sanctuary. i wonder where the people are, perhaps safe and warm and cozy in the comfort of their fireplaces and families.
i lay down on the barren grass, now mere stubs that too ***** my skin, they were once lively and green under the shade of a once blooming tree, now limbless and leafless, a mere trunk of wood that stands stubbornly on a patch of forgotten ****.
as nighttime falls the boat lights come on, setting patches of deep blue ablaze, like a fire it spreads and spreads until you can no longer see the depths of aquamarine, and maybe just maybe pretend to yourself that they never even existed.
maybe grass needs to be barren before spring brings shrubs and trees decapitated before they can bloom again, maybe matches need to be lit and places burnt to ashes before the past can fall away like a brittle husk.
I look up to the cloud-filled sky, blue dotted with specks of white and perhaps there is no heaven beyond those clouds, no god near welcoming doors, and if all prayers are just a shout into the empty void then perhaps all we can do is shout.