Children live in sea sponges,
In a flow of eurhythmic waves
A life, irregular, colored, and full of magic,
Where only the currents feed us nutrients of the imagination.

Some think
We must escape the sponge
Dispose of this derogatory babyishness
So the Human flees the sponge
Leaving its empty shell to decay.

A bottomless breath greets the Human upon release from perceived captivity
The ocean’s brow is vast
Glistening like a wet jewel
Near the surface, shadows don’t exist
The shore is near.

Jagged rocks, Battering waves,
And wounds that sting in the salt
Eyes weakened by the old dark
By ricocheting lights from an unfamiliar, burning sun.

The Human’s sponge has dried out
No chance of returning back to a hollow husk, fragile and void
Water still passes through, but full of wasted nutrients
A dying rainbow after the mist dissipates.

The Human fights waves of darkness and blinding black
Not the comforting dark beneath the waves
Where sanctuaries of sponge beds have now been whittled
To a crispy, flaking pile
Impossible to grasp, impossible to touch
Impossible to return to the haven