I look for comfort in billowing spume.
Thunderous. Luminous. Vicious.
Circular motion then thundering roar
That’s where my heart can soar.
That body. That body.
That mass. Oh my.
I can barely hear the seagulls cry.
I seek comfort in it’s swishy gurgle
Its undulating moves.
Its undertow , high and low.
I can ride this beast
But can never conquer it’s swell.
I’m driftwood .
Bobbing. Bobbing. Babbling.
Rushing to shore. Rushing to shore.
Then poof….. No more.
No more me.
Only soft yellow sands
Formed from a million things that were once tough as rock.
But are now full of footprints.