My world used to be an ocean
with sea levels above the ground.
All I had was the surface of the sea,
and the sun above
reflecting the world,
and me.
Oh, those images on
the rippled sheet of sea,
these were scenes I won't forget
the reflective sailor I used to be.
In and on the sea
I saw the story
I wanted to tell
the world of sea men.
When my world was an ocean
there was the unchanging sea
wearing the face I put on that day.
And behind the horizon
there was always a mermaid
sitting alone
waiting
while singing a serenade
behind an embracing
sky and sea.
Then the sea levels dropped,
revealing some opaque soil
and solid grounds.
First was a light house
to tall for me to climb,
along with islands
whose language I don't speak.
Then the grounds were revealed, with their
inhabitants who speak so loud
and the mirror was concealed
by a sun blocking cloud.
And the few who take to the ocean
do so to swim, not to reflect
on the sheet of reflecting reality
they have just splashed.
The world of soil reflected nothing
of my face, but the sand did
get in to my eye.
As I trotted along the shore
of forgotten horizons
that shared a sun.
On dry land
the sun only burns
the face that looked up,
while searching for a clear plane
amidst the chaos of sand.
On the ground it's either human or fish,
and the sky and sea never embrace.
While the dropping sea levels
increase their pace.
And the sailor sits on a bench
under a shadow casting tree,
while with his shoes
he writes in the sand
a thought that will be washed away
by the tide of a low level sea.
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