The Endless Cerulean

I'm drowning-

In an ocean of cerulean. Soundless.

Waves cascading into oblivion. Compounded-

With whirlpools fueling the swell I'm found in.

Lost in the depths-

Of the deep blue nowhere, except-

These colors bleed through the land outstretched-

Like a hand grasping at sand to collect.

Salvation is sedation-

But no further from perspective or placement.

Though these waters alter breathing; I offer salutations.

For I believe we alter the outcome if we respect the tribulation.

This endless cerulean swirl is aimless.

It consumes and nourishes throughout the ages.

Flourishing and receding in simultaneous cadence.

Furnishing life and harboring death in its many faces.

Like it, my aims became vacant.