No Dreams In It’s Droplets

The ocean IS, only that. Tides and waves and currents.
No dreams in it’s droplets. No fear in it’s crashing surf.
But we ARE. We dream and fear and hope and chase.
Those waves cannot wash away my thoughts and tics.
No water cleanses us to peace, but from the River Styx.
The ocean just follows the forces, the warmth and the moon.
Our minds are broken and pushed by a wind of desire,
emotion and pure animal need. We are more but so much less.
I dream of her, and love her, and hope it all goes well, but I cannot say.
She may look the other way. The drama might shed blood. No one knows.
The ocean just IS, and goes on without an itch in the brain, a tear in the eye.
I might dive under it’s cold waves, just to be a body, just to be a dream.

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