The Lure

Tangled within
a germinating prescience;
skirting an oceanic rim.
Beyond the encumbrance
of temporal concerns,
drawn by the wildness of the sea,
its shoreline littered with things
torn from their moorings -
so shattered.

Flitting along the edge
like a sandpiper, snatching
minnows washed aground.
Running from the waves
that would sweep me
into dangerous currents
dragging me further out -
and under.

Whispers of the unseen
flirt like a child asking for attention.
All night the undulant splashing
upon the jetties of perception;
all night a high wind blows.
Through the waking day; resistance,
as it pulls me deeper -
and deeper.

I go under -
beneath the flowing sea;
blinded by the oppositional continua,
the sheer multiplicity of the physical,
the infinite skies of the ephemeral,
and see there is no choice
except to embrace -
or deny.


© 2003 Melissa Songer