DREAMS AND MELANCHOLY
With solemn cast
I peer through the watery wall
To a salty fragrant domain
In the deep
It’s beyond me
That future realm inside
I peer through the watery wall
To a salty fragrant domain
In the deep
It’s beyond me
That future realm inside
I am out
I exist in the shallows
Not in the bounds
I am out
Wanting that place
Hoping to be taken in
That new life
That searching embrace
Anxious
Waiting for the path to clear
I long to make my way
Past the brick barrier reef
Through the plated sea glass
Counting, marking
Half expecting to drown
Battling the sting rays of doubt
Those faithless visionless creatures
Which patrol
The hungers of the mind
With the power to quash
All anticipation
All love-fed springs of hope
With dread
I wait for my turn to pass
Drawn to the living
Breathe in, breathe out
Calm
Hold
Water realm
Salt world
Beckons
Pulls
Take me now
In the Beginning by C.F. Joyce 
I wonder if the world can ever contain those of us who yearn for sustenance outside the ordinary. Those who strive for art, no matter how despairing the creative journey. Those whose idea of joy is a sea salt moon shining on the watery bounds. Pulsing, beckoning. Its loveliness only surpassed by the full and fruitful reaches of the mind.
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It is a common condition. Confusion of youth. Fade into marriage and children. Empty nest. And then what? If we had taken the time early in life to be pursuing our dreams and ourselves, we would be different people now. For better or worse, we learned to give up parts of our own identity to be the person who others expected us to be, or the person we thought others needed. That was then, and this is now. We have today! We can be ourselves now, and please ourselves.
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