Strictus

Strictus

Sitting with ocean,

watching creation, I am reduced.

Simmered.

Shorelines are swallowed by

metronome repetition.

Precision absorbed by time,

I am myself.

Cascading rhythms rise and fall,

distance counting of a storm,

I wait with goose bumped skin,

eyes shut.

I drift.

Far from the numbers in my head.

Nature has no words, no lessons.

It plays out its existence on auto tune.

I create stories,

the gathering crest has no need for them.

I am unbound, free to explore,

all rules and segmented time,

banished.

Such a small part of this universe,

the slight connection

throws me open.

I am undaunted

by my larger life.