Bland Allegories and Sweet Agonies

 

When boats touch the horizon and thin to mirage, soon to the eye on the shore there no longer was ever a journey, but, as they sail, infinity is crystal clear and the sea only expands, and there no longer was ever a limit. On an endless trip the sky never ceases to recreate reality, and no day is like the other, evident in the difference of clouds, collected and full, torn apart like spread cotton, and colors of dawns. If one was to anchor, the pull towards eternity slows and the rushing growth of mind turns a gentle bloom, a steady slithering of weeds. 

The further you go, the higher the waves, the more entrancing and cool the water. A pleasant taste of newness washes your mouth, and the intensity of salt carves your teeth smooth. The sand on the shore no longer slips through your fingers soft and warm but the memory of it does. A simple glass cup in your possession is a homage to the dry land, made out of its fine shimmering grains and reduced to a daily breakfast ornament. 

To your joy the comfort has rubbed off. How sad, how sad. Comfort has been nothing but a good friend keeping you safe from yourself. You are proud, you are alive, you are well. You are the burning coal comfort wrapped around, forever igniting, unfazed by the breeze. On your skin is the ash of change and no longer dust. 

Your heart levels with the history and miracle of your existence, when once it was you who tried to reason with its pain, and the only answer was that you deserved it or nothing more. 

How to ever go back home, now?

When you'd just started seeing, how to stop craving the dark? When the lull of quiet gathers us and the ripples, listening, how to not miss the echoes of mess? When you feel your own skin, sunlight like needles and movements like the tide, how to keep on denying you are real? When it is so simple, how to stop looking for tangles and wishing for knots to cut your cords? 

How to ignore the plain and obvious? How to go back to being a stranger, an enemy even, to oneself? 

How to tell them you are alive when they witnessed the shell of you dying? How to say you exist when to them you've disappeared? 

How to admit all you have left is gratitude and not remorse, when they truly love you familiar and you truly love them far?