gravitas

and so, walking through the cemetery to the beach,

i think to myself, you poor sods, i bet you wish ...

but of course they can’t; for they are dead. 

and i think, they are not poor, are they? they are dead,

and then i think, oh yes, how lucky i am

to be walking with salt in my veins, and

salt in the sea waiting. oh yes, i am not dead,

for yet a whiles, yet 

in there, in the sea-mightery, as i often 

call it, I am more than alive, for

i am dead sure that i am not, 
and that this is not, 

a pun-ish-meant.