Water rises against the window.
Black as ice, leaving him clammy and shivering.
Freezing his guts to the point of helplessness.
Immovable as Medusa's statues, he stands, his eyes unblinking.
His features, dank, void, without expression.
No hope nor sorrow on his staunch handsome visage.
As the wind strikes everywhere, envelopes him.
Confound him morosely, keeping him in bondage.
Unfinished businesses his only thoughts at that moment.
An instant of unknown horror swallows him.
He gulps down a breath of discomfort, as his head clears.
Only from foggy to morbid black, his mind no longer swims.
In an ethereal world of darkness he now floats.
His arms limp at his side, his feet hanging below.
His open eyes mean nothing as he sees nothing.
As he is thrown head-first into a world of woe.
His brain steadfast though his body languid.
Devoid of movement he floats in an icy sea.
But the horizon looms nearer, or so it seems.
Hope fills him up an brings him some peace.
His eyes fly open, his body writhing in pain.
In shackles, it seems, he lies.
Masked men stand above him in awe and stare.
Clasping little silver tools, to each other, they cry.
He tries desperately to see beyond the red and the white.
He does not feel his own stink anymore.
A million other sounds buzzing eerily far away.
Distant but everywhere, take him to some faraway shore.
Beside the ocean he sits on the sand now.
Transformed, reborn, he waits for the next tide.
There are no onlookers, there are no tourists.
A place of his own making, overwhelming, brings him back to life.