I drift along on gel-like legs
And read what sands reveal
Within a local sea curtailed
By walls that glassy feel.
The furrowed words carved in reply
Are easily erased,
As artificial currents flow
Within the space encased.
From years of testing, now at hand
Indelible ink delight;
The hope it brings is freedom come,
And on the glass I write:
“An octopus so literate
Should never limits see.
Release me now with no regret,
And let me roam the sea.”