Sweet Lord Moses, Split Her Up!

The glistening seaboard,
Twisted,
Meandered around my own soul.

I stood,
Watching
Great torrents of foam thrash relentlessly.
Stood there,
Gazing at life pass me by-
White seagulls and storks,
And a contrived salted reality.
A million clamoured voices,
Me in the midst of chaos,
Speaking, screaming
In one desperate wail.
I could hear me,
Thudding heart violent,
Fear circling my grand other destiny.
I could see
Futility,
Watching for life
To appear,
And appear out of nowhere.

I stood,
Hanging secretly,
Fervently
Onto a past life,
And their ghosts.

Nothing made sense then,
Nothing made anymore.
Wanting to move beyond,
I walked,
And walked
Toward the waters' edge.
I walked,
Half expecting the walk over,
Other expecting it under,
Wondering,
Sweet lord Moses,
Would he clear up
Ocean floors,
And hidden mines,
For simple old me.

Nothing
Happened then.
Nothing.

The sky not bursting into flames,
No wise men with sceptres
Or frankincense.
The earth never split nor spilt
To swallow me.

Raging waters calmed,
Unsettling silence.

It was then,
In my mind
I slowly heard my name,
You, ghost number one.
I almost felt
The three syllables,
Softly rolling
Off your tongue.
I could see you,
Closed eye vision
Sharp and clear.

Now I see
The ocean playing
Magic on minds and memories.
Gypsy with the crystal ball,
Boy on the other side.

Alone.
I see me waiting, waiting
Endlessly.