The shadows move in circles
as the world does.
As we live
it spins
_

it moves through my fingers like water
leaving no trace except
                                          that evaporates.

all i have ever wanted
is to be
unmoored
alone
a ship
cast off
from the populated shores
into a sea of stars
to sail among cotton clouds
into fantasy beyonds
to need never look
on the world i leave below
and never glance back
on my body which my mind
leaves behind
on the lapping shores of the living

"Think of yourself as dead. You have lived your life. Now, take what's left and live it properly. What doesn't transmit light creates its own darkness." –Marcus Aurelius, Meditations

that
   little girl
who wanted freedom
   to see and do
      to be
wanted a voice
   to speak
      to be heard with
who wanted to know
   everything
      to fold into her mind
who wanted to be something
   to be worth something
      to be everything
she thought it would be easy, and it is not
but for her
   that little girl
for all she lost on the long and weary road
woman, you go make a name
for yourself.

Brown hair drip
drops down onto
black squishy flip flops
and
seamless white plastic shower floor.

Then it is tan sand
and saltwater spray;
and the great gray-blue ocean
lies before bare burrowing toes
and air vent breaths
are washing tides
and the shushing breeze.

She is naked and young and alone
tan, svelte and smooth
squeezing sea from dark tangled hair
on a beach
where air smells sweet
salt, not stinking seaweed
and everything the temperature of her body.
The sun burns not too hot or bright
in pastel-streaked sky
rays not of needle glares but cotton.

The standing,
quiet calm
no chatter but seagulls
air enough to fill both lungs:


a world that is plush and halcyon
and needs no reason