If you still read me, Don’t be uneasy to let me go. I know that I wilted up long ago.
If you still love me, then let me go soon. If time was life, then your clock has struck noon. You have a chance to find better-than-me. Before it is night. . .And you become keen.
Can I babble, like a man who is lost? I haven’t read you as I turn and toss.
If you still read me, Don’t be uneasy to let me go. I know that I wilted up long ago.
The seas are deep and mysterious. Erratically terrifying. Bound by nothing but the flood, you have no bearing where you are. Just a compass to tell you where to go. The fierce sun or furious clouds may be above you. Below you, bewildering depths.
But, then again, the sea is not a destination, it’s a journey.
This sea full of life . . . and death. Plunge deep, find another’s tomb. . . or maybe their lost treasure. At dusk, paradoxes magnify. The moon gives shadows only, not clarity, and you’re left conjecturing on whether the strange notes you hear are the kind creatures of the abyss, or the sirens of malintent. . .
But, for me, I rest in this ocean, stray in this sea. I’m adrift in this briny air, with the sea-birds orchestrating their charming cacophony to the rhythm of waves.
Yes. . . I’m lost. . .strayed. . .adrift. . . not in the ocean. . .not in the sea. . . because yes, they are deep and mysterious, just like I’ve described. But, truly, this most deep and mysterious place I’m in. . . is a place called love. . . And I’ve just hopped off my boat.
