I'm in a state for a stroll to shore. Unfortunately.  For me: I am no where near a pleasant beach.  Despite my desires for fired marches, a parade produced by weary digits, I fall far from frigid foam I fancy. A waltz to the water is completely beyond my grasping, twitchy toes.  And so.  My mind within I tepid sit.  Dull or cozy.  Lazed or prosey.  Either way, temperament supposedly: a suffocation so complete.  I yearn to lift these anxious feet!  And feel the sand betwixt my toes.  And gentle stings of a salted nose.  To stand almost absolutely alone.  But surrounded by a deafening roar!  A piece of which is so imposing.  Miniscule while soley seeking, but transcending space when wholley wreaking.  Focused on a part, I fall.  Only full might I call: perfection for my heart to stall.

And the ocean evokes.  For me.  This all.