i come and go,
i ebb and crash;
sometimes persistent,
sporadically ambivalent,
mostly unexpected.
drowning is often—
but just to see you once or twice over and over,
i come and go,
i ebb and crash again;
unsure and unclear
of where i am
in a vast ocean connected
to a skyline that would
take me forever
to explore.
to find that horizon is
a cycle that will always continue,
a process i’m free to do so,
but could never stop—
for the tides won’t ever allow.
i may never stay
buy i’ll surely drift
gently to the shore
back to you,
or with you.
before getting lost again;
but always finding my way
back to you,
or with you.

I know, with absolute certainty,
that if I drowned,
****** under
by the relentless power of the sea,
you would not hesitate
fighting nature to save me.

****** off and get a coffee, leave me in my chair
alone to watch the waves and bones
and the fractured wind-washed water stones
a canvas canute,  imperious I command the tide,
go back I say, come forth no more,
I speak therefore you must abide
and stand astride as the rushing waters flee my hand
retreating from the scatted margin land  
they fear my wrath, and plot amongst themselves in bubbled froth
regrouped replenished forces gather forth to rush and overtake my seat
wet and bloodied but unbowed I hold my ground and kick my soaking feet
neither of us is willing to admit defeat

The ripples of water
Bursts into multiple waves
Merge as a river

One must have a mind of the sea to regard the waves and sandy shores of the salted winds encrusted with shells and past souls.

And have been one with the ocean to behold the sea glass's aquamarine lustre. The encompassing hues of blue highlight the luminescent bacterium.

Swimming in the deep torrents lie miserable souls who jumped overboard, mesmerised by the blues.

Of the July sun, and not to think of any misery sung by the sirens, I was told through the wistful wind in the sound of the shells and conches.

Which is the sound of the waves full of the same wind. That blows through the murky water.

For the listener, dweller, and lover who resides by the shore

And nothing of themselves beholds that of the sea, nothing that is not there, and nothing that is.

loving you was like surfing in a wave,
Its smooth movements guided me through the ocean
and the salt kissed my skin,
I became one with the water and with the wind,
the ocean became my home, and I loved it so dearly,
the sun beat me on my skin, and I was in my own little utopia,
but the sun became blistering, my skin bubbled in agony, and I cried at the injury,
the salt danced its way into the wounds and guided its painful path across my body until it reached my throat, suppressing my chokes and coaxed my voice into the abyss,
the water became violent. It no longer ran along me in light streams but rather,
it strangled me and repressed my screams,
loving you was like surfing, unexpectedly disturbing. You were so amazing and wonderful. You could be the light of my life and the one to knock my lights out,
it was either the sun was blazing, or the sun never came,
the ocean was either barren or it was dragging itself in harsh motions
the salt was either refreshing or so heavy my lungs teemed with sea salt, and I no longer had the capacity to cry; I couldn’t.
loving you...loving you was like surfing, but next time I see the ocean, I’ll take a boat instead.