Endless Love
It's one of those days when I've stumbled willingly into the sea that is my life. I swear I didn't see that memory as I tripped on it.
I swim in the encompassing warmth, needing neither air nor light. I'm glad I learned how to sink wilfully at an early age.
I am struck by the infinitely long, glowing tendril that waves in the ocean of my existence. Salty, murky waters, and yet its sinews shine resolutely. Each filament of its ethereal body is more precious than a full hand of flesh chanced on a butcher's block.
That strand was born of an innocence devoid of armour or pretence. I call that love.
We talked, we felt, we believed in possibility. The fragile shoot was conceived in a moment of honesty and chance, where everything seemed possible and nothing was enough. That it has survived silence and separation is proof that it had more meaning than I knew it to be capable of. I call that love.
I wonder how deep it runs...
This chasm of secret ocean is mine. I have no experience to understand its science, only its depth. I guard its sacred boundaries fiercely, even though I do not know where they begin and end.
Silence is also a sound. My mind tries to rationalise, to navigate, to try and figure out what I need to do to climb my way up its gentle length to the light. What actions will I need to take, what words will I have to say, what white horse will I find to ride my way into the heart of my beloved?
And I cannot, for if I hold it, it might break in my hands, and I love it still. There is no happy ending in some bright future. The answers are already with me in these dark, present depths.
I know I must swim back up and sneak quietly into my skin as if I never left it. If I don't, they'll send a search party to find me. I'll send a search party to find me. My slowly silvering head needs me to return to its familiar clutch. My ageing body will howl for its being. My life will demand I be attendant to the plans it is making for me.
But perhaps when I am here next, in this beautiful place, I hope I might not be alone in it. Perhaps that someone who gave life to it with me, might have come back to find it too.
I swim in the encompassing warmth, needing neither air nor light. I'm glad I learned how to sink wilfully at an early age.
I am struck by the infinitely long, glowing tendril that waves in the ocean of my existence. Salty, murky waters, and yet its sinews shine resolutely. Each filament of its ethereal body is more precious than a full hand of flesh chanced on a butcher's block.
That strand was born of an innocence devoid of armour or pretence. I call that love.
We talked, we felt, we believed in possibility. The fragile shoot was conceived in a moment of honesty and chance, where everything seemed possible and nothing was enough. That it has survived silence and separation is proof that it had more meaning than I knew it to be capable of. I call that love.
I wonder how deep it runs...
This chasm of secret ocean is mine. I have no experience to understand its science, only its depth. I guard its sacred boundaries fiercely, even though I do not know where they begin and end.
Silence is also a sound. My mind tries to rationalise, to navigate, to try and figure out what I need to do to climb my way up its gentle length to the light. What actions will I need to take, what words will I have to say, what white horse will I find to ride my way into the heart of my beloved?
And I cannot, for if I hold it, it might break in my hands, and I love it still. There is no happy ending in some bright future. The answers are already with me in these dark, present depths.
I know I must swim back up and sneak quietly into my skin as if I never left it. If I don't, they'll send a search party to find me. I'll send a search party to find me. My slowly silvering head needs me to return to its familiar clutch. My ageing body will howl for its being. My life will demand I be attendant to the plans it is making for me.
But perhaps when I am here next, in this beautiful place, I hope I might not be alone in it. Perhaps that someone who gave life to it with me, might have come back to find it too.
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