How deep is the sea that clutches
and drags me to the muddy floor, within?
How many days will I tumble
into the swell of inner life
unspoken, unwanted, unkind?
Shall I stand here, now,
battered and smiling, beside this beautiful life?
Always searching, but for the fleeting days
of home neat and tidy.
The creative knife;
sharp, yet desperately beautiful in shine.
Always, still searching.