The Sea and Me

We whip across the glassy sea leaving a ripple of tumult behind us My hair blows into my face, gets caught in my smile But I push it away and stick my palm in the water feeling for vegetation, fish; for life I feel no seaweed, no scales, but life bursts out as the molten mist soaks me, I long to plunge in With a sharp flick of his wrist, the sails are restrained, coiled, and knotted We slow to a glaze My hair stops blowing, the splashes become droplets The sky is a light coral, the setting sun retreating beneath the wake As stars begin to faintly envelop the scenery, we drift closer to shore I recline, feel my ribs protrude up, my skin still shimmering with spray I dunk each foot in the water, feeling the pull against my ankles As if the water calls ‘Come back! Come back!’ Scooting forward, I grin slyly, setting my fingertips against the translucent water Like the sun, I wish to join once more I propel myself forward, flying into the sea! Tens of thousands of years swirls around me Of creatures and plants, shipwrecks untold Treasures and history thousands years old The sun’s rays barely still reach me, but I see where they cannot The vast nothing that’s something, that holds what is forgot My disturbance unnoticed, I’m such an insignificant part of the sea But as much as I am a part of it, it is a part of me.