The Sybil Sea

 

Her conversation will sometimes drift away with the tide.

Trailing off into ever more distant and tenuous threads.

Rippling with the waves of anyway.

Swirling around from within the currents of whatever.

 

I've seen her callousness towards others.

The indifference of the rolling sea,

Under a cold, hard, moon.

Unfazed by sensitivities around her.

A strange, haunting echo over the waters.

 

Her emotional seas are sometimes tempestuous.

Storm clouds over choppy, seasick waves.

"She panics," warns my uncle.

But instead I think: "she cares!"

Other seas are as restless, but few so passionate.

 

Nowhere is the sailing so pleasant.

When the skies are bright and the sun is shining,

Joy bursts forth and sparkles over the horizon.

I am dazzled by the glory,

And breathe deep from the scented air.

 

To navigate such waters, I must be patient.

Trusting to God and my instincts.

A HEN philosopher.

I know I can travel far here.

Seeing and feeling much.