At the Tideline

I steadied flight, guided it

along atlantic drifts

supported a body

responded to urgency

then fell.

Floating, free from the grip

of skin, of muscle

with no nerve-harness pulling

or pushing 

I flustered on squalls

until I had to waiver all purpose.

I surrendered under moons

succumbed to tides

became wetted in a strange element

with others who were lost

loosened from their origins

and then it stopped.

Gathered in a line

we are a seam 

between land and shore

fixed or shifting

depending on perspective

the long view or the short.

How we will unravel is a mystery

but this is not as far as I will go