Hot then Cold

in small trial’s farewell

the tide has already risen,

the swell

by now

robust in its leavened rise;

thence what was dry

now feels the cold of brine in salty chords of repose.

what was safe in the sun

now hides in it’s shell

in the dark wetness,

thick from instictual fear of predation,

the fear of destruction of our earthly bodies

or disturbance of our narcissistic peace we so obdurately try to maintain.

this fear,

our protector from facing these these undesired inevitibilities,

and maintainer of our perspective and inclinations,

fastens us to our roles —

so instinctual

and raw in its emotional essence,

as the temperament of the sea,

from one extreme to another,

in highs and lows.

yes, through natural consecution will the tide lull;

time, the defined course in this continuum;

yes, each individual nature of one has a definition

as insistent as the expansion of the universe

and certain as its increasing entropy.

all answers, beneath reticulated layers of complexity

are really


so simple

that the question of fate becomes irrelevant —

we are who we are

due upon our arrival as innate creations of mother nature,

set in our ways

set to react


grow in our ways,

because it is who we are.

simply, creations

and creation’s creations.




while fighting to remain still

within our comforts and routines,

in hopes of evading the unavoidable terrene of ever increasing entropy.


and though the tide has already risen,

the cracks and dust of sun dried scars regain moisture

and heal again

until the open air poses risk once more,

splitting and crumbling,

eroding at our circumstances,

threatening our comfortability

and challenging our existence with the idea of change.