The edge of the world.

I moved into the wave crests
trying to live in their symmetry.
Turns out, they're not so symmetrical.
Their illusions lie and their calm is the
same as mesas and wind blown sagebrush.

They rolled, and I rolled and the
seaweed anchored my mind, soul
and body the way they say God is
supposed to, but he never really does.
I started praying to Triton thinking he
may care even though my hair was
never red nor did it sway with the
anemones the way life does.
But, I thought he'd feel at
home with my rebellion and
take refuge in my name
the way I took home in
his waves.

It hurt like hell.
I won't lie.
Salt covering wounds,
clotting lungs and
drowning sanity.

But you know,
washing away reality
is what you need from
time.to.time from
sea.to.wave.to.shore.

It's good for the soul
to be tied to the edge
of the world washing
all your sins clean.