High Tide

Just absolute solitude. Ever felt it before? and I don't mean wow-I'm-so-bored-I wish-there-was-something-going-on-tonight solitude. I mean surrounded by water, toes clinging to the edge of the slippery rock surface as the soft tide kisses the archipelago.
It comes as a shock, this solitude. You're breathing and suddenly that's all you're doing. The breeze is a bit cool on your shirtless skin and your eyes are closed. You feel like you're having a one-on-one with yourself. It's beautiful, really. One of those moments that just doesn't happen all that often, no matter how much you lie to yourself about it.
You're looking down and all you see is your bone-white feet flexing and balancing with the rolling current churning a few feet beneath you. The natural thing to do here would be to lightly take off and wait for the water to meet your shoulders, but you stay. For a reason you're not entirely sure of, you stay completely still. Only moving your eyes back and forth beneath your closed eyelids. I imagine it's what meditation is like, if it really works. The sky grows darker on the horizon and the wind begins to pick up.
And it's beautiful.

Flying

Cumulus and passersby;

A road that wasn't taken.

When it's learning how to fly,

One best not be mistaken.

We rode the train we all must ride,

And lacked proper elation.

"Don't go that way - come back inside,"

No sir, this is my station.

Where choice is false and men prove weak,

It's best to hail another.

I'm sorry, friend, I think I've peaked,

You'd best not tell my mother.

So long as men can breathe, or eyes can see,

So long lives this, and this takes life from me.