PostPoems Be Artistic. Be Creative. Be Inspired!

how strange it is for one

that loves the sea

having

first

fallen

in an unfocused moment

the thrill of the hunt

overboard and alone

in that vast

voluminous

vestibule

with water water

only water

himself

and a solemn sky

he finds himself

not stark

raving

mad

but strangely at peace

nourished

from a source

deep within

that first wind

is blowing now

across the face of the

deep

he is drowning

nothing else remains

neither buoy

nor boat

nor beacon

he turns over now

eyes closed

moving in time

willingly

wooed

by the waves now

the long awaited

contractions

the first pangs

of birth