On A Rock By The Sea

I feel lost. Lost in the wilderness of my mind. I feel the wind on my face and it brings me peace. For a moment. A moment. If I hang on, I can extend and expand this moment, stretch it out, until I can smile. Smile a melancholic smile.

It's not that hard to do. I lied. It's difficult. My thoughts pull me back in, towards that depth, that darkness, where dreams are crushed or revived. I'm not sure what's worse. I decide to have a good thought, to see what I've got, how blessed I am to be. Then I hear and sense my Spirit's longing. I don't understand. I believed there was more. I wanted more. Maybe when I really appreciate what is, I'll perceive it as 'more', as the gift it truly is.

But, I fail. If I was fulfilled, or rather if I felt I was truly fulfilled, I suppose I'd have nothing to write about. I imagine there would be nothing worth exploring. But, like this, like this as I am right now, I can delve. I can swim out to the farthest shore. I can penetrate the waters. I can find pearls. I can. I can. Maybe the thought of drowning won't even cross my mind. Maybe I'll relish the sensations. The warmth. The softness. Maybe all of that will be worth the storms I'll have to journey through. When the water gets cold, when I feel myself shiver and my teeth chatter, I'll wonder why I ever ventured off. Too late. Here, in this grey blue space, I find myself. I apologize to the gods for my heavy heart. I apologize for not being light and fluffy. I apologize for the essence that is me. It's the only route I know to myself. I ask if there's another route and they whisper words in the wind that will reach my ears. "No, there is no other way."

I'll forever be sitting on a rock by the sea. When I'm in the water, I'll miss land and when I'm on land, I'll yearn for the water. I can't have both. Not at the same time. It's always one or the other.

There are times, though, when I'd prefer nothing but the sea. I wait for the sun to go down, to go to sleep so that it can wake up somewhere else. I wait to see the moon. I wait for some clouds. I wait to hear what secrets lurk in the night. I wait to see what I can become under the light of the moon on a rock by the sea.

Then I pray for rain while my feet flirt with the earth. The gods listen. Who needs anything when you can be intimate with and fed by the landscape of your own life? When you can take off your clothes and feel your own vulnerability? When you can see your own beauty, without judgment or ridicule? When you don't have to feel shame? When you can tap into the eternal simply by being in the presence of sky and stars? Who has time to "need" when your cup is already full and is overflowing? What's the real issue here? Sometimes I fail to see how full my cup really is and when I don't see, I am blind to myself and all that I am. How can I not see when I'm made up of stars? Of the cosmos? Yet, I'm pulled down by this or that thing and all that is not of the real. This vortex will not let up. It's up to me to circumvent. I am no ordinary being.