Of Canals and Oceans Wide

How can you bear the force of ego
when you stand toe-to-toe with
the face of Poseidon?

The breadth of the ocean mercilessly swallows
any bigness of self as you sway
in the salt breeze atop a patchwork rock wall
looking into infinity during the hours of
night.

In the sun this would be less bleak.
Light gives the sea air a playful bent,
where the dark grants the wind a melancholy.
This ocean begs apostrophes such as these,
but enough time without the self in
this place shocks you into knowing,
suddenly and silently, with a placid nausea,
that you are toe-to-toe with unperspective.

A mother's fluid shares the ocean's mystic
sustenance. When you are old and weary and
you can take no more, to womb, to
sea, to the self-beyond-self, you shall return.

Be consoled in the revelation of the water.

copyright a(scetic)verse, July 19, 2008