ice

if you're an iceberg,
then I man a small boat gliding through water
that looks like the sky right after
the sun descends below the horizon--
that blue that is almost black.

there is no sun here, only clouds promising snowfall.

to the layman, you are mysterious.
but to Archimedes, you simply obey the laws of physics.

you are freshwater floating in waves of salt;
alone,
but unique.

your beauty is unwavering across your vastness
and my humanity makes me feel insignificant to you.

but you are also cold, unyielding.
you travel the ocean with no outward regard.
what can be seen of you is just a taste,
most of you hidden below the water.

to be alone in the sea is terrifying--
you know that well.

i want to drill into your core and carve a home there.
i want to learn your crystalline topography--
even the jagged parts down below,
the hidden bumps you don't want seen.

bobbing along the liquid void,
we are two loners who could be one.

a wooden door appears in the ice.

i climb aboard.

i knock.