Drifting

We were watching sea, watching from our open boat, we floated with no direction. A journey made of imaginary circles, we copied the sun and the planets, we shaped ourselves on orbits and arcs but without taking aim or having ant sense of where we were. Bobbing like a thrown away champagne cork on the deepest and blues sea, caught between skies and water in a huge peaceful sandwich in lazy currents and waves generated far away and now lost without a destination. How strange to be lost a sea, of all places. No reference in the day other than the sun tracking across the top of the blue mirror. At night we saw the shapes of things and the glinting star light of the lost planets and Milky Ways. Shooting stars missed us by thousands of miles as they burned bright for on last time. We listened for their splashes or ricochets but they were already over another continent. When the sun rose we watched the sea some more looking for signs, hoping for wonders.

I closed my eyes and imagine people ashore, noisy pubs, endless talk and chatter, the roar of traffic and background music. The pull of the moon and shadows of some big city, brighter lights that shut out the stars. Maybe conversation, walking home alone, the smells and sounds and the grip of claustrophobia, hectic lives and pursuits, passion and petty crime and all going about their business. I can't really imagine any of this, the effort is exhausting, we are afloat, too far away for things to be real, in too deep. Too much water under us, too much sky above us and land is a distorted memory. One day we shall drown, all of us, lungs full and choking before the black honesty falls upon us and our names leave us, until that day comes we will dip our fingers in the water, enjoy the cool splash and just drift away.