The ocean's dreary rush came in as waves,
a spoken word unheard but strong and cold from inside out.
It carried the thoughts adrift;
they ran ashore
somewhere miles and years away, tired and drenched throughout.
The hourglass, turned;
the hand, unseen,
offered itself,
and the sand slipped through
as those thoughts through the narrows,
barely, surprisingly.
Stopped breathing. How long?

If they should sink,
the thought:
what would I do?
If they should sink,
the sigh:
where would they go?
If they should sink, would they have ever been?
Atlantis.
A space, where water bends.
Did heaven once upon a time close in upon the earth?
Where and when and how did they embrace...
A revelation in reverse?
(Cover it up, cover it up.)
But sand cannot retreat, and we cannot but look;
our eyes drawn in with the water.