The sea taunts me with its freedom,
its lunar autonomy.
Waving at my shoreline, lockdown, limbo.
It’s essential essence and vitality
Scorns me, a prisoner
of pestilence.
The sea waves at me with white, regal fingers
Flaunting its liberty,
its tidal vastness.
I could run into its waiting arms.
The hugs and embraces
I’ve missed and missed,
with rocks in my pockets
and letters left on desks.
I could unlock myself.
Poseidon’s pandemic.
………….
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