Washed Ashore

Drifting upon endless seas,
Waves gently lifting restless mind,
Letting go, pulling back.

Tongue bewitched by salty waters,
Skin scorched by salty winds.

Holding on to the stars above as Poseidon toys with fragile husk.
Where will I end up?
Torn between abyss and glory,
Unable to determine if gold or black is polluting my soul.

Eyes deserts with blue oases,
Hair bleached by relentless struggle.

Sharks nimble, birds preying.
Hand reaching.
And still unable to sink, unable to rise.

Fear and hope locked in a battle for empty lands,
Yet to be seeded by their spark.
Caught in a trance,
The dichotomy etched between heaven and hell.
Till the storm might settle and monstrous walls no longer reign the surf.

Glancing beyond the endless expanse, towards shores.
Solid ground of certainty.

So I prey to the gods to loosen their grip, send me back home.
To earth and safety.
Where mind is unable to wander,
Forced to wonder,

What life might be like,
Floating asea,
Not bound by turf and gravity.