A colossus in the currents
With claws drifting serenely down
And green-gold eyes
Seeing, but not revealing.
Try explaining to that grinning mouth
The merits of followers, likes on selfies,
And checking “just one more” work email.
We rush manically, frantically,
As though we’re expected at our funerals
Ten full years before the Reaper calls.
Planned days laid out like rows of teeth,
Waiting to draw blood if you deviate.
I’d prefer to be like one of them,
Contemplation in water, clarity on land,
Wrapped in the resting power of my being,
My existence enough to command respect,
Knowing when needed,
One strike will do.