If you live in the ocean

Anything can be a home,

A sponge, a dead thing, a larger animal.

Water levels rise

Oceans never fill,

Mountains sink into the sea

Kingdoms dissolve and fall

Making waves foam and nibble

On the hem of our homes,

Preparing the land to be home

For the sea itself.

Whether from above, the side or underneath.

It never stops, all degrades and blurs

All turns to water and water thirsts to spread.

When it makes its home in me

I just pray it finds me a sponge,

Soaking every bit of fervent life,

Not just another dead thing.

– Vagabond Prophet