Like driftwood, I travel

I may sink or settle
But the waves will wash over me,
And beat down on me.

Poseidon’s white horses
Will carry me,
Into darkened
Deep seawater from land away from me.

I will float
For as long as the ocean does carry me,
In the arms of Triton
And Orion above me.

Like driftwood, I travel.

Until the salt
And elements weather me,
And the ocean drowns takes
And dissolves me.

Like Driftwood.

Stephen Robert Kuta

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