They are the only ones who push me. I am the only one who sails them. Five vast oceans with salty shores and open seas like mine. Five who just sit and ride the tides. Five fish bowls filled with diverse life. From the deck, I can feel them, but Poseidon hasn’t let me feel his wrath yet.

Their depth is mystic. They send sailors to the edge of sanity. They flow east and they flow west and pull the earth under their floors and carve the sand with huge waves and don’t stop their rage. This is how they flow.
Let one’s mind wander and be free, they’d all wake like motors in a lake, each with waves crashing into the other. Flow, flow, flow they say when I float. They elevate.

When I am too anxious and too heavy to keep flowing, when I am a dense rock against a still pond, then it is I look at oceans. When there is nothing left to explore on the earth’s land. Five who dive deep infinitely. Five who wave and do not forget to wave. Five whose only reason is to ripple and sway.