Calm Before the Storm

My lips are a stone shore

but my mind is an ocean, moving in waves,

in and out of controlled consciousness,

sifting through your logic and leaving

epiphanies imprinted on my memory.

The tide rises and my mind pushes forward,

slowly eroding my lips' grainy blockade

but they remain sealed,

locking in secrets - things better left unsaid.

Moon passes overhead, the tide recedes
and I find myself wandering the treasure littered coastline,

reflecting me in the water's surface.

Epoch

Why do I feel most creative when the remains of my potential are flooding out of me?

As if all that I’ve lost is resurrected on the page; each brushstroke and new breath giving life to unborn wisdom.

I am a physician of language.

I am an empty vessel.

My heart aches for my loss and yearns for what I’ve gained through the process.