He was stranded. Lost. Dragged so far out to sea
his screams became the waves. The paradox of salt.
Black. Suffocating. Parching. The presence of matter.
It didn’t matter. Or wasn’t mattering. In the blue,
The boy had lost his feet. But they didn’t matter.
The sky did. Like a sapphire halo around his head.
Broader than the ocean that had lost him
in the first place. It mattered. Too big. Too inexhaustible.
Heaven. Hell. What is the difference now. So blue, each
They are identical. Inseparable from the eye

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