Under a waxing Moon, all will be
Illuminated: the eternal dance of
The breaking waves, pulled
This way and that in
Unending oscillation.

This is where she comes to sing,
To unshackle her soul so that
It can chase the urgent wind.
She has no need of wings:
Open eyes, open mouth, open heart
Are enough.

Who knew there could be
So much colour in shades of blue?
Deep blue of the midnight sky,
Midnight blue of the deep ocean…
Such simple words for such intricacy.

She tries to ignore this; to pretend
There is no horizon, that her
Marine world is infinite, that
Circumnavigation can pass for
Endless. For as surely as the ocean
Curves into the distance, it curves
Back to sneak up on her
From behind.

When she feels her voice falter,
When her eyes turn from the heavens,
When her heart begins to contract,
She can no longer ignore reality.
Her livid gaze will focus on
Her celestial mistress.

The Moon is impassive; inscrutable.
She needs the sea spirits’ song
To lend the rhythm of life to
Her mechanical movements.
She is ruled by gravity;
She, too, is a slave.

12/30/2017

Posted on 01/29/2018
Copyright © 2024 Richard Vince