On the shore of angry seas I hear the crash of foamy waves, but miss the crisp sudsy sizzle that one hears on a sunny summer day. That nuanced note is lost to the Churn
I scoured vast seas in search of wisdom lost. It happened when they made me walk the plank, like scuttled wreckage, sunk sans thought of cost, as I began to rise, my treasure sank. I bobbed in seas that each way looked the same. How could I find my way back to that spot carried by currents dastardly untamed, and found days later by a ragged yacht. And so I drift upon the choppy seas, and hope for winds to steer me on my course, but mostly there's not even a slight breeze, and I'm stuck in ghost screams of a dumped horse. I hope one day to regain my attitude, but not stuck down in these damned horse latitudes.
moonlit sea: a light trail morphs with undulations
wide mouth river, its chocolate-colored waters smashed by breakers / the battle is ceaseless; no winner is declared
sea & sky featureless, glimpsing the void
The waves are churned to foam. The sight mesmerizes. My mind is miles from home. My seated self does roam -- chaos that surprises, like waves are churned to foam. Like one w/ Capgras Syndrome, hustler mistrust arises. My mind 's wary of home. I focus on the chrome, but my ear recognizes the waves that churn to foam. I've vagabond chromosomes, but still the thought chastises: "Your mind is miles from home!" I'm sitting all alone, and my mind surmises: Like waves churned to foam, your mind 's so far from home.
For fog has settled on the bay
and ship shapes fade to gray.
They count themselves infinite ships
while bounded by that bay.
The sea deceives, that much is true;
the rest we’ve yet to know.
Some will swear that trawlers sit there
that were lost long ago.