See the waves rush in
to grasp a bottle in its hands;
a letter written perfectly protected enclosed by glass
Fire could not do
what this bottle is hoped to do
Sail aimlessly, never to reach the shores again of me or you
Words that were never said have ran out of time and expired
So they are just messages in a bottle lowering and rising with the tides
Never again to reach the shores of you or I

We are not
unlike serpents:
at intervals
we must shed
our skins and
enter new lives.

Are you uncomfortable
in the comfort
you have created?
Do you itch for no reason
you can think of?
Do you long
for the scent
of flowers you
have never seen?
Do desire flesh
you have not met?

Lives wear out.

Someone new
longs to be born.

It may be time
to molt and bolt.

New lives,
new roads.

The Dharma
wheel spins
trailing wonders.

Live or die,
we must follow.

  ~mce