It marked the beginning of a forced baptism,
buried toes beneath genuflected sand.

Between the tilted ocean and her rising chest,
was reluctancy, finally put to rest.

And while her gaze wept upon the waffled lid of the sea,
She felt the blue skin of restorative waves,
hushed and soulful, wrap, like silk gloves, around fevered feet.

It was then, she experienced her hearts devouring from varied shapes
locked inside this sunset place.

Blood invested kisses pushing upon a bedtime sky
reflected the space hidden in a deep well inside;
With tireless tenderness, it seeped of all her callings.

On her way to the next moment, and outside of fish bowl feelings,
the vein of bliss dipped into the chasm of brittle bones,
romancing them to their proper thrones.

A place between dreams and tears,
A place where man needn’t fear.

A place where the volume of vitality,
virile and ear escaping,
dances through the foam that is time.

A place where the spirit is infinitely laid out upon a spread
of present seeking cells.

So, moment to moment she stood, while moving, so very still,
allowing the ocean to breath life into her once closed but now grateful gills.

By: Magnolia Lafleur

Happiness belongs to the present.

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