Like every day,
Oh, so lonely.
Or who can say
Towards who knows?
On this sea.
Sailing alone.
I cannot be.
I cannot move.

I am a bubble fluctuating
On its way to the surface, evaluating
How it will be to be one with sky again, once I am out of the sea
I’ll be bursting free and culminating into a timeless cloud
Into the air which was always meant to be me
Yes, towards the surface I go to be free

floating
on a glass green sea
serenity in spite all

and yet,
serenity is not destined to stay

drowning
as glass turns to shards,
crying out for salvation
dying out
for no one responds

sinking,
with the realization
the sea was never truly serene

there is a floating garden that rests above my head
I try to reach it, but I am out of touch
my fingers must be broken
or maybe it is my heart

All along that grey draped zig-zagging shoreline
The men sat or stood in resolute silence
Each trying to reach back into minds
Scrambled like eggs by the fear of impending violence

Soon the hard faced men will open the gates
As the race will start as hearts will change pace
Then by push and twist they load like cattle
Into great grey hulking hearse's barely floating
Plunging through grey roiling seas toward thunder
Echoing across the channel quotation marks of the battle

That rages ,engages not turning ÷ripping out pages of history
When the water turns red punctuated by the floating dead....
........The question marks and periods
Exclamation marks in the book thats still being written ...
        ......to what end?
That is what makes any plot a vagrant thought
With a premise being an unresolved mystery
Such are .....
The vagaries of the ever repeating chapters of human history!