The Beached Whale

Sometimes, I was a beached whale. I spent life; plowing forward through a vast ocean full of stuff and things. Vaguely consuming everything as I swam by. Baleen skimming through it all with no teeth to sink in.  

On time, I was my own. I found myself; detached from any pod. In a vast abyss as I was discovering and lost. Fins pushing through the very same water. 

In time, I was huge. I felt my weight; pushing things away and pulling towards. Myself a ball and chain sinking me further into a secure abyss. Tail clinging sunward. 

At times, I was singing. I signaled my feelings; to be detached. Singing alone seeking others and singing with others seeking alone. Straight from the whale’s mouth. 

The times, I was searching. I sought what; food or company from the pole. The ships’ sonar pushed me back and fro. I felt it from my bones. 

Like times, I was breaching. I was up; to the sky coming back down. Reaching from the boundless bounds. A body against the sun or moon. 

To times, I was floating. I was pushing and pulled; by the tide to the shore. The sand set off my body. A completed whale.  

The time, I was beached. I was wailing; for shore. I was a whale on a beach. I wailed a while, me the whale. 

Over time, I was slipping. I fell back; to sea. I went asleep into the salt then awake in the spray. All’s calm before the mind after the storm. 

Out of time, I was a whale. I beached; my body on the shore. I went out and went out. I was a whale. 

End times, I was wailing. I finished; on the shore. I went out and left the shore. It was over.  

Of time, I was out of it. I drank in; the salty sea. I let it out too and back in. And on.

Related posts

Top