How should anyone know, if, whatever it is or isn’t can only be felt?

Around my tiny vessel mermaids coil foamy curls of ocean’s omnitude. Here, in this vastness the realization that I am nothing is so plain. 

Perhaps – her words echo through the depths of my heart – I can only choose to accept or to resist. And with that, part of me succumbs to the universe. Surge after surge, a ripple no larger than a snip in time as I involuntarily blink. Inconsequential. The other part instinctively withdraws from the unbending fate, as if herby the natural progression could be altered or even stopped. But why should it pardon me? The glaciers recede. Fairies sweep the emerald blue luster from their depths. I am doubtful if anything remains. I rest peacefully. 

And I supposed I was in control…