I stretch beyond what eyes can see,
A boundless realm of sand and sea.
So vast, so still yet never bare,
A silence breathing everywhere.

I shimmer calm beneath the sky,
But hold a thousand storms nearby.
At times I whisper, soft and slow,
At times I rise, and roar, and throw.

I do not ask to be explored,
Nor beg the brave to seek my core.
I simply am too wide to bind,
Too deep for most to even mind.

They stand in awe along the shore,
And claim they've seen what I restore.
But all they see is surface blue,
A surface hiding what is true.

Some dip their toes, then flee the chill,
Some surf my waves, chasing the thrill.
They ride the rhythm, skim my face,
Yet never touch my shadowed place.

And then the divers come with pride,
With lungs like iron, eyes stretched wide.
They plunge with lights and fragile charts,
To chase the secrets in my heart.

They dive so deep their spirits strain,
Convinced they've touched my farthest vein.
But still I stretch, unknown, profound,
No end in sight, no solid ground.

And slowly, spent, they rise and drift,
Their courage dims, their will grows weak.
They whisper soft, “Too vast to keep,”
Then fade away, in silence deep.

Yet I remain the silent sea,
Not empty, but too deep to see.
A depth not meant for every soul,
A truth too wild to grasp in whole.

I was born
with questions in my mouth.
Why do wolves howl?
What do bees dream?
Will I ever be held
the way that the ocean's depths
hold secrets?
*
I pressed my hands
into the cool dirt of every mystery,
removed them to find earth under my nails,
ink on my palms,
and a smile I still cannot explain.

They tried to tell me:
not everything needs to be known.
But how could I keep from exploring
when every whisper of the wind,
every caw of the crows,
every daisy's petal,
tells me there is more.

They tried to tell me:
Pandora's jar is just Eden's apple
wearing a new name -
blooming only sorrow,
but can we really know the light
without the dark?

Hope was the last thing breathing.
She was caught in the looking glass,
unable to speak,
and I thought her reflection
looked an awful lot
like me.

I walked into
An old building
Vacant yet
Lived in

I opened
Door after door
Peering into
New air

I realized
I was searching
For what was
To be

There were
No windows
On the doors
For a reason

I could not peer
Into the future
The past
Was futile

There was
No knowing
Left only to patterns
Or engagement

I could stop
Walking
The corridors
Of this wood abode

One more door
To go
What was next
Solitude or sorrows

As I stood alone
I met the room
With nothing to lose
No compass for death

There once was a martian from Mars
Named Alfț'drônþopo'gorgg'glìån'nars:
     He constructed a spaceship
     And went on a spacetrip
To the farthest, most alien stars.

My emotions, vast and untamed, are nothing but a restless cry in a world sworn to silence. And my mouth, an irreversible threshold, where every word spills like a spell, unraveling the wound of a truth that was never meant to be spoken.

If this is life and its relentless rhythm, why should I plead for it to dwell within me? I lack the strength to bear its weight and the resolve to withstand its judgment.

There is no refuge from the weight of what I am, nor a silence deep enough to swallow my own echo.

The talking falters,

that's why I burn poplar wood --


that always crackles.

Oh, sea of tranquility,
we came, but we could not swim,
so we claimed you with a flag
and put a towel down for the race,
then we left our grubby footprints
across your perfect face

We dream of something

new, suddenly a new path --


in the well-known woods.