Nostrils reaching for the skies,
Piercing the waves,
That swallowed them whole.
Gasps and deep breaths,
Only until the next wave follows
The one before,
While beneath the surface of icy waters,
First feet try to flap fiercely,
And tired hands waddle helplessly,
Then another momentary respite.
Solitary moments above salty oceans,
And then once again
Be one again with the seas.
The waves competing with,
A dying man’s desire to live.
Now respite will last,
Longer than fleeting seconds;
Now raging waters,
Will simmer down
And now both the blue of the ocean and the bright blue sky,
Will be visible in plain daylight,
Such thoughts the dying man thinks.
Rescue ships or messiahs,
Will find him while he still lives,
More reasons to struggle,
Against the oceans wish.
He waddles some more,
And paddles just as much.
Somewhere at some point,
There must be submission.
Faith will decide once the spirit fails.
Feet wanting nothing but escape,
Now desire nothing but to meet the ocean floor,
And just as he gasps one last time,
He is free.
The once treacherous sea,
Greeted with open arms.
Promises of a future,
And death once a tearful goodbye,
Now a new beginning.
Picture by Amy Humphries (Unsplash)