You sunk your hooks
into me, and for some reason,
I didn't take the bait. I know how to look
sharp, but I completely did not recognise fate, as usual;
my feelings and my energy, after all, have never sought to be cruel
but to simply be, as the sea is also itself, the seeing
of you and me. The unpacking of meaning
that liberates. That ensures that certainty
is something that can be predicted,
with at least some form of accuracy.
What is happening, though,
to the dream of the deep sea?
What is happening to the crevasses that once teemed
with love? With fire? With fate—
either destiny
or loneliness will drag me down, one day.
Fishing is not easy
but then, neither was being free.
Neither was respecting the ocean, and notions of justice and freedom;
neither was, in the end, about being me.
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