An average failing, a breakdown. The sadness of grace seen fleetingly

How did I know what the sea was, let alone know how to dream of it? 

I had never seen it. 

The water I knew was near stagnant, 

it had no motion unless others waded in, 

pushed their bodies into its warmth.  

How did I know saltwater? 

The runoff of eyes.

But those small dark marks know no motion except down.  

The sea rose and carried me, 

my two-ton body, my rough self. 

My dried mud toes and caked mud tongue.  

I woke up, my equilibrium lost. I could not right myself.

It is hard to keep circling around the thing that happened and not say it. 

But it is also hard to say it. 

So, I circle some more until it tells itself. 

I can trust that it will. 

(More drafts of Land Beast)