Upon the beaches of white
The sand beneath my naked soul
Unprotected, unguarded, unspoiled
Pure as the moonlight that bathes me in its glow
And the water as it laps my nonexistent feet
Just another night on the beach
Glowing, white sand; clear, blue sea
Where all life ends
And new souls begin
All around me are the others
Lying as peacefully as I
Waiting to be chosen
To return to the land of light, of living
The place where we feel pain and pleasure
Where we cry tears of sorrow and joy
And where we shall spend another lifetime
In a cage, a body
Made of flesh and bone
So tightly knit
Not even the smallest hole to use as means of escape
And when we die
We are completed- whole
But we can no longer stay with the living
And our cage of flesh is cast back
Back into the sea
Into the waters that represent death- completion
And we find our way back
Back to the sandy beaches where it all began
The sea- it glitters so
In every wave there is another cage- corpse
And with it comes the soul's last thoughts- last feelings
The fleeting memories it had- gone
Swallowed by the sea
The soul- recycled
Another wave of uncontrolled emotions
Leaves another washed up corpse
On the white, sandy shore
Where it lies and will be buried beneath the grains of death
And be lost to the living world
The soul will rise up
To join us on the beach
Further away from the tide
Away from the waters of death
And lie upon the shores of rebirth
Again, it is incomplete
Author notes
Listening to Thrice's album "The Alchemy Index: Vol. 1 & 2: Fire and Water", I had a bit of inspiration to write about the sea and came up with this. I'm in a weird mood that can only be explained as a cross between depression and calm/peaceful feelings that I've gotten used to for the past 10 years of my life.
It's not done, I'm not satisfied with it, but I can't think of anything more to add right now. So, I'll come back to it later. For this one, I don't think I want any help with it. I want it all to be based on my thoughts and emotions and I want no outside intervention. I will feel better knowing that I was able to come up with it by myself based on my own mind and not someone elses.
I can't help that sometimes, I just unconsciously pick up things from others and smash it all together sometimes. I like to pretend I'm molding clay and I'm taking small pieces from everyone and they are all different colors and when I'm finished its a whole new creation. But I don't want it for this poem. My mind want this to be souly based on "me". You know?
