I am god of the ocean
and I am tired of the seashells.
They shift and crackle under my feet.
The sands in the grooves of the floor
the potholes that bubble and croak,
this music of the deep,
My reef to sea floor.
I once thought all of this, beautiful.
I've been Designed to Care for life in the great beneath;
for all of the sirens of the seas
who lure me to sleep; they sing
and bring me into the caves
underneath the shores.
But I know I will not sleep tonight
All I can think about
Is a young girl; drowned.
It strange that I'm finding myself solemn.
Whatever has become of me?
It started on a dreary storm, where it broke from sky to sea.
I saw a mortal man sailing;
He lost his daughter, Rosaline.
She hit my waters: a wild sea
and I did nothing to help her breathe.
I listened to her pulse slow;
the lights of her eyes dimmed low.
What became of her barren of body?:
Oh I should know.
They were just bones.
And I think if I had bones: if I was not just Faith and true power
That I would be crying, and tearing through the tides
Just to save her; that beautiful girl.
But I have to be the god here; the harsh spear.
I must do this alone; be sad of death.
After all the sirens are filthy, and I know,
that they will never understand.
They will sing songs of mockery
and ease me to sleep with their haunting, sweet sounds:
Teasing me with "un-death."
They will remind me, through and through,
that I will never join her.
I can never die.
As I walk below the waters, just above the underworld, I wonder:
Is there ever a day I might be undone?: Unraveled, like the mortal?
Can I never turn to dust and just become one with the earth?
I know I should not be jealous of life in motion:
even as bodies and spirits die.
The unsettling moment when I saw her last breath;
A gasp for air and a tremble in fear.
Right then, I knew,
I wanted to die right along with her;
to cease right alongside her.
Now
I wish I wish I could stop breathing, stop being anything
at all.
I keep thinking, "why? Why have I come to believe this?"
But the answer is here.
The thoughts slam against the shores of mind over and over
And It hits me: "perhaps," I think, "I loved a mortal soul."
