Wet air enters my lungs,

Moist and pruned filling my body,

Saturating me and my aura,

I breath out and salt,

Like so many microscopic warriors piercing my skin,

Their attack, fatally nostalgic.

Abandoning my otherworldly self,

My feet thud down on sand,

A steady rhythm to the sea.

Plunging my hands into the waves,

My hands withdraw from the salty abyss,

Covered in tingling residue,

Every nerve leaping for joy at rejoining their true home.

Ferns, so many towering walls of Vegetation,

Tickling my face, sending shudders down to my toes.

My heart lies, like a dead seagull, buried in the sand of

Gold Bluffs Beach.