The Tide

For George McAuliffe

I ride the tide of my breath

From the shore of birth

To the shore of death

Must be halfway swum

The tide just keeps rolling on

I sometimes see glimpses of the shore

Although maybe my mind is mixing

Memories and fiction

Fairy tales and visions

Stories of what’s beyond

Reward or reckoning

I turn back to my breath

And ignore the beckoning peninsula

I feel the sea beneath me

The sea that carries everything

I relax and let it seep into me

Drifting, drifting across the sea.

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