There's no way
to understand
anything
about the ocean
simply standing in the shallows
thinking
this is all there is.

Which is probably why
the small self
I thought
I was

clumsily mindlessly
staggered
through life
careening
from one redemption
to the next,
always
searching for sandy beaches
and cool blue shade.

Until the smallest self
I thought
was all
I was

dived headlong
into the immense hungry ghost
of drinking life
seeking,
craving,
wallowing,
and begging.

And finally
that self
I thought
was all
there was

collapsed
in tears and agony,
sensing somehow,
after no unturned rocks remained,
that indeed,
no unturned rocks remained.

And although
merely knowing,
in itself,
don't change much,
you gotta start
somewhere,

and that night
after that last wave crashed
over this weeping face,
the surf finally somehow
came into view
and my gaze
began to sweep beyond
to the vast deep unknown ocean,
stretching endlessly
towards the moon

and the self
I thought was all I was
began to fade
into the misty depths.