.

Sea

It’s the sound of a violin bow
Drawn across the strings,
Only without the musical note.

It’s the sound of a deep sigh
Stealing happiness away.
Melancholy.

It’s the whir of a thousand pages turning
Brushing and blowing over
Millions of inscribed thoughts.

It’s the music of color, white
Blending and twisting in blue
And forming peaks.

It’s the sound of emptiness and vastness
Under the open night sky:
A plop here, a whistle there.

It’s the rhythm of a living being
Breathing itself to life
Over and over again.

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