What if the tides bent out from the shore;
Waves broke from themselves, curling out
and up, scraping the sky,
They would collide into each other in the middle of the sea
and then fall, plunge
into some slit of darkness, of magma
that might be the center of the earth, or might be
I have become obsessed with the sea.
Its ebb and flow.
What is it that lures the sailors in?
Do all things sink
and sit there, dully, on the sand bottom,
or is their spirit wrapped around some core
Essence of earth
that is then returned in that vacuum of tides,
What does it mean to disappear?
Where does one go when they die,
and is end of life the same as death?
The slit in the middle of the sea might be
another chance, or
a welcome call.
Or maybe our dead live on the other side of the mirror