When I am all littered with licked wounds and listless battle scars I will make it back again. When I am cleaned of my edges and rid of my riptides, I will rush back into the running rage of the sea. I will rip out the frayed edges, the folded pages and the silent secrets tucked between the sheets. I will furrow my brow into a shape worth having and I will find my skin feeling its way back to the beginning. When I am all healed of this train called brain I will follow that deep and deafening sound back to sanity. Back to some place that can trace the silent reverie of my life to the moment when memories were mostly magic.