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Pulse of the Bay

the words to describe the moments and the feelings elude me.
they hide in the cracks and crevices of my imperfect body.
my eyelids feel heavy as they carry out the task of blinking
dutifully and without question,
but they are tiring out.

oh i am so easily distracted.

what is there to be said of the body of water before me
that has not been said before?
more delicately,
gracefully,
and poised than i ever could.
the humidity sticks to me
although it is not unpleasant
the chipper of birds
although it is not morning.
i hear the faint murmur of voices
and wonder whether what i hear is a mere trick of the mind,
created in an effort to reduce the endless
but comfortable isolation within me.

the street lights glow a vulgar yellow-orange,
they offend my eyes.
i feel heavy, lethargic, and restless.
and yet there is also a harmonic peace that enwraps these feelings.
the beach bay is silent,
polite,
disturbing no one.
the patterns in the water are endless,
i have studied the likes of them before.
in a different life it sometimes seems.

the wind is delicate and graceful
as the water,
the trees,
the grass,
and the 2am sky breathe
lightly,
etherealy.

i try to mimic their rhythm, and for a while i can.





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