I just imagined that I was grabbed
by some friendly hands into the sea.
The sea nearest to my house, as far as i can remember.
I was just relaxing with the thought,
that my beachy summers are seemingly endless loops
revolving around food, showers and the beach of course.
I never enjoy the beach as much as when I’m not there
However, the moments I spend at the beach
transcribe as magic in my mind.
They feel like any other trip and any other day,
they are weighted by everything that weighs my “daily”.
But they read well.
They do good with my psyche.
They whisper to it.
Anyways, I think that’s what that was.
I imagined that as I was sitting by the shore
With the gentle waves right by me
On the prickly stones
With tiny little salty drops falling on my face
In Athens
The turquoise sea reached out ever so gently
and led me in to its depths.
It never got darker and it never got scary.
I followed the natural path of its sea bottom
and steadily got further in and in.
I was guided in you see,
pulled would be too vile a word to describe it.
It was a sensation, an invitation.
I accept it with great joy.
That’s what the sea does to me each year I visit.

I’m going to experience everything differently
within the confines of my mental space,
but when I reminisce
It’s as if my memories are some sort of yummy drink and only the yummiest looking part floats up top.
I don’t pick it apart you see,
I let it mature and take its effect on me,
I let the sea slowly take me in.