Sirens of the Heart

I have idols.
I know.
Sirens of the heart that call for my attention.
And I let them
under the water by choice,
gasping for the memory of how to swim.
Each moment engulfs me more
deeper in survival
I go
where roots are shallow in a constant flood.

A rock sits on the horizon.
Dry land as the current rages on.
A figure stands, exhaling in melody
luring me to trust.
Closer.
The one that attracts me still.
Both siren and spirit embracing me into death.
The death of self, of ego, of control.
Where I abandon my own soul.

Where life begins again.
Water born.