2: the ink sea

there is a beach where a gold fish swims in constant circles
in the confines of a clear bowl while the tides come in,
and pull out.

a boy with no name, because his parents never bothered,
walks this beach, his toes being stained
from the ink of the sea

'little fish' he says when he happens upon the bowl
'what has you trapped in this bowl? Should you not be out with your family?
Swimming in the sea?;

the fish circles, wide-eyed and shimmering
in the ever present sun that never seems to set
on this beach by the sea

'no, no,' the fish tells the boy, not stopping for a moment.
'a little fish like me couldn't possibly make it in a sea so large,
so i'll stay here and be content to watch.'

the nameless boy ponders this for a moment, confused
that it would willingly choose to stay in this bowl
when it had so much before it.

'but fish,' says the boy, 'think of what is out there!
'other fish you've never seen, other waters you've never swam,
and world without edge or end!'

the sea laps against them both,
leaving its trace of orange, yellow, red and blue in its wake;
and all is quiet

'there is endless possibility out there fish
for this sea is the ink sea and it can be anything you desire
and dream.'

the fish slows in its pacing of circles 'round the glass.
'but I do not dream. Nor do I have desires.
I am but a fish.'

at this the boy frowns and sits beside the bowl,
wondering what it must be like to want nothing more
than what one has.

'if this sea is so truly wonderful and great as you have proclaimed,
and if desires and dreams are so valued, then why, oh why
are you still here?'