tiny crablike movements
across the sand
towards home
towards the inward place
where the story ends
and the days begin
across the stormy sea
the Atlantic blue of a hearts longing
across a series of rifts, foaming crests
of a better dream
caution
the claw like hands pinch
the soft underbelly of youth
clutching the remnants to its breast
as newborn food
dormant shelter
from the rages of time
and the fiery pits of desire
the wonders of hell
cannot fathom this sea
this murky underwater world so new
to the scuttling fusion go
to the roaming spirit rise
life is foaming to and fro
in the very minute that we rise
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