Ambein
©2000 by Bastet

         The ice opens up suddenly to the right. The
ship and all that are on it toss to and fro, like the
ghosts of buried centuries. We are surely doomed to
hover continually upon the brick of all that is
eternity.

        Please make your foreign tongue say we are not to
take a plunge into the abyss,
for the oceans deep can be unkind. The ship and crew
are to forbid the threat that means to destroy. The
clouds rumble with  a egregious stigma in which I see
that I've never been evoked to feel.

        This adrenaline that seeks upon my chest, making one
float to desire that is safe and new. The swells of
the ocean are splashing  higher and higher, rain and
neighboring thunder howls through my hearts dismay. It
seems to be shrieking in my thoughts, corrupting.
Perhaps this current leads me to the south pole
itself?

        I stand grabbing onto the sails. The ship is rotted
underneath and to my eyes glance I see one of the
crewmen fall, tumbling down into the dreadful waters
below. I hear his shouts, swallowed whole . Dancing
with an unknown figure of my imagination, my will is
that of which I  hold onto. As he grew strangely in
posture and intellect, the perfect resemblance of a
warm glow upon the waters, and amid over all the
earth.

         It is a day to live or to die. Lights bring forth
the  energy, not that of which the sun itself
perceives, but between us. Something in which my mind
can only touch. Hopes and dreams lack  of what I feel
alas. I regarded the sweet mouths essence. Here was
indeed the triumph of all things heavenly defined. The
magnificent outline of his lip.  The soft, voluptuous
slumber of his embrace. I endured the gentleness of
skin against skin.

         It seems to go forth where only stars are bound. The
closest to heaven that I will ever endure. There is no
exquisite beauty, only that of which is held in the
human mind. Rocks fall,one  by one. Slow then fast.
They are mad! They ran from what? For my eye can not
see forth of that distance.

        A play of hopes and fears from nothing of much I
should wonder. Is it this  wild longing? Is it this
eager vehemence of desire ? I have no power to
portray, no utterance capable of expressing. And thus
here I lay looking at this spot as the wind dies down
from from my hair. Land is near. I am home,  but
rather be with my mother, the Ocean.