poetry & things


Breath of life, it is a wild ocean

always a tide coming and going

in this place, it does not linger long

never holding on, only drifts quietly into night

into stars, into fleeting sparks of fire flies

or in the night waters, a ghostly glow

of phosphorescence, a transient trail

of luminescence that soon

fades and reappears to light

the deepest depths

of sea

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