Untitled pointing to nothing

Standing alone in the surf. Again. Sky is bruised by the endless battle. Changing. Apophis retreats. Nothing. Ra’s spear triumphs. Again.
 
Silence reigns over all. Rushing. Waters upon waters. Hissing. I bleed. Roaring. I remember. Hushed. I forget. Retreating. Everything.
 
Everything is music. Raindrops fall.
 
Make a fist. Tensing. Muscles answer. Growing. Stand out in a circular mound upon my arm. Rising. Veins protrude. Nothing. Forks in rivers of green, beneath translucent shadows of skin. Nothing. Rising like the dawn at my wrist.
 
Open my shoulders. Time spills over. Breathe. Voices of the city wake. Dare to. Footfalls on the sand. Open my heart. Families in the surf. Raise my arm. Hand in hand. Fingers fold in. Arm in arm. Index pointing. Warmth of the sun. Nothing. Sensei. Warmth of their voices. I am nothing. Teacher. Warmth of their smiles. Pointing to nothing.