In the life of analysis as a fish in the ocean.
A discreet conclave of emotions?
The kingdom of aquatic survival;
turned into beings!
They exist in harmony,
all succinct in thoughts of remaining
forever in the sea-of-hurricanes.
After or before?
Such time does not exist in motion.
The time:
I stood upon the ocean floor.
Where once my ambition became like
an octupus.
Meaning "little" only required hope.
Today, on the surface above. . .
- we listen to the sound of tidal waves created. -
They come crashing down to earth.
Our instincts reveal minimal goals,
that you attain everything you strive for
with nothing left to live.
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