I stand in the sea,

water moving around my knees,

salt in my hair,

a cold weight in my chest.

The moon drifts beside me through the mist,

far below, lights flash and disappear.

I remember a city where birds stayed quiet,

a forest that rang with bells instead of leaves.

The sea carries these memories,

Like pieces of code.

The water is a riddle which changes each time I try to solve it.

Tiny glass-like creatures move slowly beneath me,

living through ages of dark and light.

Sometimes I think I am only a vessel,

holding what isn’t mine -

time folding back on itself,

my mind replaying,

my heart chasing old shadows.

I am lost, then found, then lost again.

The ocean is never silent, only patient.

Salt brushes my skin,

stars fade into water.

My pulse tries to keep pace with the pulse of the sea -

but it never does.

Above me the sky builds new angles,

below me the water hides its thoughts.

And I gather only this:

that I am many things at once -

salt, moon, memory, and silence,

all of it with me here,

in the middle of the ocean.