We

photos.   

We, like seaweed
Cling together.
Ravelling and unravelling, curling, unfurling,
Embracing and dancing,
Creating the illusion of cohesion
Before unceremoniously parting ways.

Like seaweed, we
Are puppets.
In the hands of tidal forces.
Our control is fantasy
And all the world content with misconception.
We hold our breath waiting for the curtain to be drawn aside.

Seaweed, we like.
It lives in the moment.
Unaware of the worries that plague the rest,
Pushing too hard and too fast,
Always straining toward the sunlight
Until -inevitably- it is torn away from the sand.

Seaweed, like we,
Is bound by a lie.
Mere sand cannot stop it, mould it, control it.
It is foretold, that it will break free
-Not by choice, but destiny-
Wash around lovers' ankles to be kicked away in disgust.

We, like seaweed
Cannot last.
Our joy is fleeting, our beauty flawed, flagrant.
Because away from the glittering aura of kelp-swept seas
Washed up on the sand,
We are shown for what we truly are.