My true self is that roar
It’s the never ending crash of the surf against the beach head
My true self is the eternal hum of the ear pressed to earth
It is not an entertaining piece of wit on a screen in a trendy cafe
Nor a snapshot, stuck in time on Instagram
I am married to the promise of the divine, my higher self
The one I long for, to become, in the lonely nights
Tunneling through my fears.
I do not yearn for another beside me, to hold me tight wrapt in their needs
My striving is for the other, found on the other side of the wishing well
I’ll claw my way through the undergrowth of fallen dreams
Grapple with the clodden mud of all of my decaying desires
Once sticky and humid, now dry and desiccated.
They no longer serve me.
Dig and dig past one self deception after another, one strata below the other.
I’ll dirty my nails with the grime and debris of artifice, the archaeology of redundant emotion.
I’ll sweep away the cop webs of separation, stare through the mire of illusion where the mist of your face takes shape waiting and then dissipating.
At low tide, I’ll wade through the swamp of petty jealousies, ford through the bog of addiction.
I’ll fall and stumble but I’ll get up again.
You are my North Star
Goaded on by the cries of seagulls that swoop down to stare, I’ll swat the sand flies of comparison, the mosquitoes of rejection.
I’ll eyeball insignificance for what it is and plummet the depths of my soul at the bottom of that well
I have no ambition but to meet you, to sink into you, to join the jagged edges of my broken half.
To glue the shards of my shell with yours, to finally come home.
I tingle all over in anticipation, this is my homeward battle cry, my soul shouts out on a beach across the ocean to you, my true me.
Across the horizon where dreams come true and the journey ends we will swim together in communion, communicated.
Forever floating in bliss.
But not now, not for a long time.
Wave on wave, I have to join the southern stars, dots in the eternal night of this dark soul.
But I will navigate my ship of fools to that distant beachhead
You are my compass.
I cannot forget
At the end of my days when my doing is spent.
We will meet again and take the final canoe.
Together, when the charts decree the circle has completed
Whole again, where we will take our place in that endless roar
That reverberates across the Milky Way.
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