Careful What You Fish For

“Comparison is the thief of joy.” - Theodore Roosevelt

Dear little seahorse,
what makes you gasp
in these clear,
superficial shallows?

The sun shines
all the way to the bottom—
you, who have survived
the darkest depths,
should know how to breathe here.

But no—
you float in sunshine,
still sulk like it’s storming.
You say, “Not enough sun!”
“Not enough fun!”
“Adventure, please—extra splash!”
But your bubbles burst too fast.

Remember that crab
you once cried over?
Now offers to share a cozy shell—

but no, no—
now it's starfish you want.
And dolphins. And sea parties
with jellyfish disco lights.

You want more, more, more—
the whole reef or none at all.

But sweet sea pony,
you could meet every fish in the reef
and still miss the one creature
you really need to know.

When’s the last time
you said hi to yourself?

Perhaps, while watching
where everyone else swims,
you forgot where you’ve been,
where you are, where you're going—

forgot how your tail curls tight
around swaying grass,
how your eyes see two truths at once,
how your daily, delicate dance
deepens love that lasts.

You vanish into coral—
a quiet magic.
The starfish and dolphin
dance in the open—
watched, wanted,
caught, and often killed.