Zhikr

If you want a place on this boat,
Leave everything you own behind on the dock:
All your belongings: your things, your ideas, your dream of a self —
That's right, everything!
We only have room enough for your breath and your heart.
Your breath is what fills the sail
While your heart beats a rhythm for the oars.
The ocean is just an ocean.
When we're out far enough
We won't need the boat anymore —
We'll fall down in fits
And throw ourselves overboard!
Sinking, sinking under those bright black waves
And come up, breaking the surface
Gasping for air.