I'm boarding a ship bound for the land of the living;
a ship, here in the river mud
it might just look like pages
but look closer
Pretend that these bleeding-ink storm clouds are waves
frozen in time about to crash
There is no ocean here.
One foot on shore
Another in the forest
My heartbeat rises and falls with the tide
Shadows of memories flutter in the forest
Alive
They are here.
Old as the stones beneath the moss
Washed under the soil with the rain
Carried to the ocean, again.
With no memory of life.