The Edge of Confinement

Suspended in motion.
Even the ocean roils, rages in despair
But rarely leaves its borders,
Just following orders.
And I am the ocean
Grand notions of lasting legacy,
But like the sea, I roar then settle,
A tempest in a kettle.
The cycle unrelenting, 
Perspective dementing
From the thrashing, the crashing headlong 
Into sea walls — a violent dismembering.
The gallery remembering 
A man stuck in a bubble.
“Caused no trouble, stayed in line,
But, oh, how he pined, how he’d seek 
After peaks.
But he was the sea, bound by the shore.
Nothing more.”
Alas, a fitting eulogy.
The last of me found not far from where I started.
Departed as existed: beyond the present,
Resisting current, flailing in isolation —
Hydrostatic desolation.

The crust rends, foam, eddies swirl 
Waves hurled, the swell, the fall,
And the sea wall trembles — battered —
Shatters.