A film of blue between formations of consciousness,

Between air and sea,

Folds slowly into the light rapture of wave upon wave.

Juxtapositions of fluted, empty shells upon dark beaches,

Capture of island convolutions,

The dream slips, sensorial, between stark awakenings,

Through birds in flight, and winds of sentience,

Through scattered atolls, the crowns of reefs,

Which raise the cities of ocean,

Slow the rings of high clouds,

Hold the ships of lost mourning,

And shape storms, the theatres of swelling time.

The spray, the white foam,

Like shuttling words in air,

The space between truth and illusion,

Between  essence and meaning,

Sounds the sky in sighing phrases,

And, luminous ivory, shifts under the sun,

Sinking to calm in the heart of the break,

Over the deep galleries of the tropical waters,

Which contain the presence of colour and stroke,

Gardens of light, charged with radiance,

Like the undisturbed images

Of impressionist landscapes.

The corridors of coral spread lucid

In the equatorial underworld,

A museum of lost eras;

Hanging sculpture in the pure blue,

Silver tarpon and angelfish,

Like roaming, wrought jewels,

Shelter beneath the floating breath

Of current and tide,

The language of ocean.