I am made of ocean breeze and sea spray,
a sliver of eternal mutability at heart,
I’m the erratic riptide on rocks of fire,
the surge of waves upon the cemetery
of tiny complex shaped life of my past
like the seeds of spoiled magic
the empty shells drift to sand
It’s in my soul, in my veins.
It has replaced all the blood,
forming a spring tide of night,
I float, like an orphan,
a vessel dancing in currents.
And the ocean’s breath condenses
on my view of the world,
to find a way out, through my eyes.