Crawling back to the sea

Did I miss the Milky Way?
Seeping into my bones while I sleep.
Creeping over my soul like a love I can’t keep.
Forgetting how this feels.

If I am nothing but confused, then I know.
I know what I must do.
I welcome in the deportation.
Listening at the water’s edge.

The primitive sound of the sea of tranquillity.
Lapping at my soul.
An ocean of storms.
Propagating emancipation.

So annotate my departure now.
Hang it on your wall and drink it from your coffee cup.
Diminished and exonerated in your eyes unfit for the surface.
They would pop under the pressure of it all.

Like the path I tread. Or the self I give away.
Where is the road I follow? The crater to jump?
I told you before about the universe at my doorstep.
But I know you wanted me to be wrong.

All along.
But you forgot how to swim.
So I shoot myself across this space and walk into the sea.
And you can fall down to your knees.

2 thoughts on “Crawling back to the sea

  1. Mark. I seriously don’t know how you do this so consistently. Pieces that reach deep inside me. And you have different styles of writing, it’s not a bunch of repeats. You constantly astound me.

    Liked by 1 person

    • Thank you Tara, the comment about the style made me smile. Good to mix things up right! But you know how it goes, we are just the conduits for the words to come from elsewhere.

      Liked by 1 person

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