Walked out of the ocean, from the deepest bottom where black coal stored. Covered in dirt washed off by the water, holy light enlightened the face – so the eyes shined once again.
Sand under unstable feet felt cold and fluffy, other footsteps – if there were any – being taken away, as if the bay deserted to welcome me.
The air inhaled filled the chest, the energy – still weak – grown out, fixes the wreck. Rise up your head, hand shanking of a fear clench to stop. Moving and moving. Little steps yet moving on.
Seagull sings, the drums of waves crash in the face of rocks. Impressive, magnificent. But it’s a time, a time to get back home.
The sheet of sand untouched so the way has to be made, by me, barefoot. What a pleasant feeling that should’ve been cold.
I will be back, the countdown of fate will draw me back, into the ocean, into the crash. The ship I’m the captain have to be stopped. Then sink and lie on the bottom down there, taking the risk – this is how the discovery is being made.