Even as I leap, extreme brilliant nights,
dazzling foam, waves enhanced by moonlight
swirl into beauteous presence.
Breath escapes me.
Panic drinks me in.
Faith no longer belies undertow.
Suffocating bubbles play
interstices of raw, stone-scraped canal.
No calm. No patient stairways.
Ethereal sea and enchanted lace
enthuse with no safe harbor reverie.
Will to wish might make it so
if ghost hand could attach to some anchored talisman.
If swollen eyes could clearly envision each molecule,
each twisting genetic spire,
each footfall upon a solitary weed-grown path.
Sparked to illumination, my most marvelous tapestry,
webbed strands exquisitely placed.