The cyclical nature of the ocean–tides and waves and weather patterns–finds it way into this poem about kismet.
Finding My Kismet Under the Waves
I often travel to that bizarre
Underwater world, seeking my kismet
In dark places in order to translate
The vast nothingness within. My fingers comb
Away the seaweed that stings the
Eyes of my mind while it’s trapped in the wash.
Here in the infinite darkness, I wash
My mind, and waken it with bizarre
Creatures glowing and moving silently. The
Chance meeting of my kismet
Separates me from the world above like a foreign comb
That I cannot begin to translate.
Even so, I try hard to translate,
As my fingers—worn thin—wash
Away the debris from the comb.
Perhaps these creatures are too bizarre,
Or is it that my newly found kismet
Demands that I follow the …
Strange bodies writhe in the ocean as the
Thoughts in my mind sink deeper and translate
My life into a larger kismet
That, like raging winds, wash
Away the wreckage of this bizarre
World in the comb.
The teeth in my mind attempt to comb
World. And I translate
Flotsam into jetsam, and wash
It all away as if I were kismet.
I quickly return to the world above … without kismet.
Beneath me lies the comb
Bobbing in the wash
Dark nothingness. I will not translate
Into words my quest for the bizarre.
Last year I found my kismet in the
Comb, filled with wriggling creatures that translate
Nothingness into the dark wash of the bizarre.
Poem: Finding My Kismet Under the Waves © 2012 by Shawn Radcliffe
Photo: Coral reef, fish, and other sea creatures, http://www.rcs.k12.va.us/tech/oceanpix.htm