When she tells you
"your ocean is a wave
of titles trapped in pipelines"
she is steeling only truth
from the ocean floor
compassion on the surface
landing on the shore
but in the deep sea she is drowning
purpose lacking to find
surrenity
she; the pebble
looking for a rock
strong enough
to hold the tides crashing
wind bashing, and breathing the storms
along the sands lay fragile pieces of
of crystal stars
that fell down from blue landscapes
escaping from the light
landing on her palms: cringing
damp by collision
the fusion in dispare
reaching these stars back out
to touch home in the sky
after night fall
the gift of giving back
is a bright day coming
where she understands
how to swim back to self
faith to walk on water
and possibilities do exist...
here.

© S.T. Rebel of Eden