where whispers of the divine eddy
like river whorls upon our sea glass,
we feel like mirrors though we are much
deeper; consumed with atmospheres of
ocean waves and dangled beneath the
currents of tidal pull.
If I am worthy to be your lover,
than I apologize for the rest
that you had to choose from;
they must have been gnarled like
tree branches, exposing their knotted
knucles in dark wood and lacking
the sequence of shade and light that
is so familiar to the worshipers
of our nature.
Do not weep salty tears, there
still are good ones left. There
is one here, one there, a couple
spread around who you encounter
in the middle of the Pacific,
basking like dolphins upon the
wake of your vessel, playing
and jubilant.
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