Poetry

I long for the open sea while gentle waves call to me in my sleep
Dreams of fresh air and a boundless horizon
Though no words ride the clean night air
I hear her song and know her voice.
 
Stand I at waters' edge while the moon bids her rise to greet me
To embrace her as she beckons me to follow
To become one with her
Or perish in the striving
 
Grounded, here I stand in the dry shifting sand
Afraid to plunge into the depths
I am rooted…captive
Denied passage to that distant horizon
 
O happy tide, would that I were as free as thee
                                                                                                                
                                                          ~By Christopher Thor Britt