Arc Angel

Sitting here as waves roll in

A paradox arcs in the surf

Familiarity:

How its touch feels comfortable

How its intimate similarity can make timid heels run

Which is freer:

The frittering dance of a butterfly

Compelled to express by the shortness of its life

Or the anchor nestled deep in the ocean floor

Rusted with longevity

And the wisdom of the sea?

Navigate these waters we will

For inner compasses twirl

With the promise of direction

On a plain where direction is ever changing

And the need to grab it

As mythological

As human

As natural

As flapping wings

And stationary sea dogs

We're coming home

To pure self

A pure position

The purpose of which is to walk tightrope

Across a familiar paradox

Time to come

And go

With the boldness of a wave