Morgion Ebb Tide
laying upon the ocean floor. broken, torn or compromised.
the irony of the nether gift; now an eternity of dark
despair. fathoms abound me everywhere. no need to breathe
or eat, no need to sleep or see. in this lightless deep,
below... upon that vessel, upon that tide. a library of
thought kept in its belly. i would sacrifice my very soul
just to read one page, one word. the nether bound with
me, transgressing the passage of time. sitting,
pondering...knowing that i'm doomed. hundreds of volumes
of text. pictures, words, learning. my love, my art, my
knowledge...covered by the arms of the sea.
