10-9-10 poem, with “Lost Fur” by Carter Burwell

sit atop the ocean-
the whole world is on its shoulders-
the surface, rich and swirling and calm-
beneath it, unknown depths-
try as we may, those deep waters
will remain a foreign zone to us-
ripe with life,
teeming with the highs and lows
of hidden valleys, crevasses,
and craggy shadows-
the world beneath the surface
is a world unto itself-
alive in the cold
life in the dark-
activity in its mystery-
a world apart from our own,
yet one that will not cease to
coexist-
a part of us-
independent and free-
its rigors and tribulations similar
to surface strife-
enclosed in itself-
drift on the surface-
float on its strength-
open your nostrils to the aromatic
crispness of it’s salty breath-
open your soul to the similarities
of depth-
your soul a darkened room ripe with
life,
teeming with the highs and lows of
hidden valleys, crevasses, and craggy
shadows-
enjoy the mystery of this symbiotic
relationship-
explore the depths of your own
craggy shadows and revel in the
independence of yourself*

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