by Todd Boss
O my soul, where do you go sometimes?
Why have I come brooding for you
here where the ocean writes its tidelines
on the endless sand?
Waves come, waves go.
Waves know nothing but tossing and
crossing, crashing and thrashing.
My sadness is enormous as the sea.
Birds are made of bones of air but I
am water, drawn by my nature to drown.
Light—o, magnanimous light! Find me!
Blind me with sight! Sweep free
and steep me in the serenity that saves—
sunlight washing over me in waves—!