The Deep

How many ghosts swim beneath my keel? A thousand souls? Swallowed up in coral tombs, whispering dreams they saw dashed upon the rocks. The ocean never fills.

Sunlight fades, the water turns a deeper black, swallowing the light like a hungry mouth. Emptiness demands to be fed.

There's a terrible poem in that yawning abyss. It strips away pretense, lays bare the fear. Out here, some say they feel most alive. They are most alone. An illusion of safety.

You were like that, weren't you? A tempest, offering both life and ruin. Your siren song luring in with the promise of love unknown until the inevitable shipwreck, leaving us adrift, clinging to wreckage, caught by the storm.

The sting of the salt spray is still in my eyes though I finally stand on dry land.