BluestWaves

Where the breaking waves hold no secrets, golden under the blessing of the sun, cold, or mist, or hoarfrost hide me, as the ghost of one that returns. keep me imperishable under the sand, decoded, and the wolf will come to lay down the mask and the bones and become the wind

The torment, the battle, the loss, unworthiness and a fiery chasm. Victory, however, smells like water. Shines like the blessing of the gods upon me. My only pain: the gods are silent.

A ring of fire closes around me, within it I am unchained. My fate is not to die in fire. My wish is not to die in fire. The eye that sees beyond keeps only silent, I do not complain. The threshold crossed itself when it trapped me, in this liminal plane I am the center of the labyrinth. One cannot be crowned (king) for nothing.

(fire being like fire,) I am something I know not of; deep in pits of abyssal depth lingers a lurking soul. spirit of the storm, soul-less, the sea-water-blooded, soul-less, the ribcage wolf, soul-less regent of an underwater kingdom, soul-less. I have wandered in the wastelands for years, I have wasted away in the moorlands and perished, I have breathed air from the lungs of the frozen land and known death and judgement and spring. Now I've crossed the labyrinth, and rebuilt a shattered vessel to the majesty of progression. I will that the storm turns the spark of life into a raging fire.

I am coming into the unshakable skin of the deep one who has resurfaced, of the unparalleled keeper of the wisdom underwater. Under my ribs there are coral reefs and forests of kelp, swallowed by the green, murky water of the sea. My muscles are interwoven of shipwrecks and sunken loot and my tendrils are tentacles and rotting rigging. My blood is saltwater, I have always known this. My eyes see reality and the hidden world alike, when I speak, fish are hiding in my words. The true me is forever tied to the tempest. The true me is unfathomable and scares me, and was buried under locks upon locks and cast out from a ship to sink to

Please don't forget that I am to be buried at sea, that coraline arabesques will crowd my palace and that fish and men will be welcome there alike. Please leave everything I own to the living who may or may not be my blood and erase my name from the face of the earth. Under the liminal waves I will sit on a throne of silver collected from shipwrecks and I'll be crownless among the sealife, just one more kin among the merfolk. I'll be in the eyes of the narwhals. I'll be in the fitoplankton that sparkles in the moonlight. I'll be in the wind, the gull and the tempest, in the wings of the albatross. I'll become life and live through all

The halls of the gods of the sea are filled with whispers of those who heard my name every time it sinks to their holy ocean depths. The gardens of the gods of the sea are planted too with offerings I have made to them: mother-of-pearl honeysuckle, seaglass linden and grassy willow. The roads to the gods of the sea know my footprints like they know the tides, they come, they go, they change, they grow, they come back forever and a day. The gods of the sea themselves do not know me because I do not matter: they know of whales and righteousness and kelp and stingrays and love and family and krill and revelation, and sharks and oneness and

Of all the hellhounds chasing me many can dream-walk and most can track me through the night, but their teeth of torment cannot pierce me, their howls of nightmare cannot trap me, and they writhe in unrest when their likeness cannot bear the likeness of the wolf.