From the shore he sets sail, exiled,
their final glances slanted
through a haze of scattered sands. Waves roll
his raft, hurling his body like a pinata at a drunken party

The familiar horizon
has unfurled into a blank canvas

Their island of plenty,
of freshwater streams
and smooth cyclings
has dissolved into the dazzling rush of breakers

His will deteriorates,
leaving a body to bear the brunt,
floating on a 4×4 platform
in watery purgatory

Pastureland they once tilled,
embedded themselves in,
blinded him to the fluidity of nature

Below the raft, a white whale glides,
spectre of the deep,
barrelling towards him at speed,
its whiteness an absence

He paddles, seeking an escape
from that which cannot be escaped,
until his resolve, taut as glass, breaks

and all of a sudden he is the leviathan,
reeling through a secret underwater world,
vast chambers of slow-motion sadness,
abysses oozing with melancholic sweetness

Lurching into cavernous depths,
past crinoid, more plant than sea creature,
past a shoal of krill,
a kaleidoscope of colours,
rotting anchors and shipwrecked hopes,
to the seabed, where minerals beam an elfish flickering
– a ceremony of organic and inorganic, living and dead

He awakens,
finds himself sprawled on the raft in unforgiving heat,
unsure of what has transpired
The black ocean is all around

With new inspiration, he jumps up and paddles:
leans sails into the lee of the wind,
holds the heavy ache of arms lightly,
rides and anticipates waves

He abides in the moment,
smiling cryptically on an eroded raft
and holding all creation in his glittering eye