I was born to the Ocean.
My blood melted and mingled with the sea water,
My tears were lost somewhere in the salt spray.
The raging wind forced breath into my chest
And carried away my cries.
I was carefully veiled in seafoam,
And She cradled me there,
Rocking me gently on Her waves.

She pulled me from the inky depths,
Sculpted me from Her blood, Her bones.
She held Her arms outstretched to the stars,
And pulled moonbeams from the sky.
She is divinity, and when She pieced me together,
Laying my heart below my ribs, below my flesh,
I, too, was made pure.

I was raised by the tides,
And followed the currents in their frantic twisting dance
I yearned for Her vastness,
Envied and revered and feared Her in equal measure.
Her power and elegance were all-consuming, And hence I worshiped Her—loved Her—
And surrendered, to Her, every bit of myself.

So **** the brine from my marrow,
And drain the churning water from my veins.
Pull the fierce winds from my lungs,
And break my crooked fingers,
Weathered and roped in scars.
Pluck my eyes that have seen Her depths,
And burn away the salt clinging to my skin.
Twist my ribs, tear out my wicked heart,
Plunder and despoil and lay waste to my very soul.

She will embrace me, grotesque as I am,
And deliver me from my weariness.