Float and cling to driftwood, whatever crumb I can. Analyze that flotsam and wish that it were a whole ship of my own. But as my legs dangle into the murky depths below, my body grows more and more weary. Or wearier. But some part of my brain urges me to swim on, to grab whatever pieces I can and hope I can assemble them into something from nothing. Survival to me is something I understand as much as God or the fairer sex. And at times like this, I want to know what it is to drown. Some say it feels like sleep; others say that the worst pain ever is when your lungs explode. No one knows but the dead and they keep their secrets well, don't they? I look in vain for a siren, a mermaid, or the sails of your vessel. But all I see around me is water, slowly churning. I'd call your name, but saltwater and exhaustion have claimed my voice once and for all. I dream of letting go. For now, for one more night, I'll be content to float here and watch the stars until my eyes close. Tomorrow will be the day that I finally permit the waves to take me.
Photo - N
Words - S
(Note - there is some CL Nazi that took this one down. But you know, maybe it's best in the form it ended up being.)
No comments:
Post a Comment