"Someday I will become a fish,"
he said to the sea,
though the ocean's harsh features
said otherwise;
rigid white foam sloshed him
along the coast, and his
calloused feet met with
loose, swirling brown
and soft, connected tan-
shore's edge greeted him instead.
Still he pressed onward.
bitter salt coating his innards,
outside encased in sand;
plowing through waves discouraged him
but also gave him reason to try harder.
He fought against the ebb, with the flow
until finally-
he pushed, the ocean pulled:
feet struck mud where shoulders leveled
with the ocean itself-
and the ocean allowed it,
swelling peacefully at his sides.
"Oh yes," he said to the sea,
"someday I will become a fish."















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