#50
It's amazing how many people write about the sea
As if they know
As if it has stolen their breath
As if the view made their hearts stop
As if the water filled their lungs
As if the water stole their loved ones
As if they've heard a fisherman cry for his boat
They really haven't seen entire families wash away
Dogs returning back to shore
They haven't seen refuse from the 2011 Japanese tsunami wash up on shore.
They haven't even seen the sea shrink away from shore in that terrifying "oh fuck, that's what tsunamis do!"
The coast is a quiet place, because we mourn for what we've sacrificed to live there.
Some of us can't handle the quiet
Some of us cannot mourn any longer
Your "inspired" poetry means nothing when you haven't stood in a way of waves at 3am
It means nothing when you haven't shouted across the beach
It means nothing when you haven't thrown your pain and guilt at it
It means nothing when you haven't professed your love to the froth and bubbles and sand
It means nothing to me
I feel as if I’ve left a million footprints
on the beach of your soul
I’ve walked the long, meandering path
of the beautiful things that you’ve seen
felt
heard
I’ve seen the docks where the ships that hold your memories are docked
from small sail boats that hold day to day memories
to yachts that contain precious childhood memories
to ships that litter the ocean floor with the bad
I’ve walked on your rocky shores
cut my feet on your sadness and anger
found small beaches littered with rock shaped rocks
found small beaches littered with driftwood from the great trees of your mind
found small beaches and carved my name in the sand
and sat and wait for the tide to wash it away
but as I sit, I realize,
the sunsets&sunrises remain as pure
and beautiful
as love itself
cosmic dance
I chase the sunset
pursue the night
wrap myself in it like a blanket
lay with the grass
to watch the stars twinkle
to watch the planets dance
in a cosmic dance on an infinitely stretching stage
a thousand years and more
of the same beautiful waltz
an eternity of a beautiful soliloquy
of the greatest actors on
the biggest stage
that will ever exist
and is all that exists
There the clouds are the curtains,
the sun the stage light,
the sunsets and sunrises are the most masterfully painted sets
the script written in ice and gas by shooting stars
I don’t know
I do indeed have a few words to say
I haven't told you these things
I don't know that I love you
but I love the way your laugh washes over my ears
I love the stupid little noises you make
when you're listening
I love your jokes and your seriousness
I love your passion for the things you love
I don't know that I love you
but I love the things you do and the way you exist
and that's okay with me
the difference
the difference between day and night
can be as striking as oil and water
the ocean and the sky
the trees and the earth
red and blue
the cover of a book and the pages of a book
but there will always be a little bit of day in the night time
in the porch lights on the small little houses
in the city lights that twinkle and turn
in the stars that blink
and the planets that turn in the distance
the night will always insist on being present in the day as well
in the dark alleys
underneath the stairwells
in the eyes of a soul who will never be happy
in the shadow of the tall, tall buildings
they will always mix and swirl together though
in the dawn and the dusk
where the sky meets the ocean
where my heart meets yours