"All they knew was that they fitted together like stacked spoons..."
"Now is the winter of our discontent."
All she knew for sure was that life was like the sea. Eternally in motion, ever changing but always of the same essence.
The blueness would ebb away eventually, she knew, like the tides that lapped on stone and wore them smooth. The rough edges that she cut herself on would be pared down.
All the inadequacies and failures and humiliation and petty disappointment and envy, she poured into a song. Not a beautiful song. A broken song, with a defeated melody. The song of a slave dying under the oppressive sun. But hers all the same.
Slowly, detachedly; she detached herself from her clothing. From the world. Like a baboon picking lice from its fur.
As she plunged freefall tumbling into the ocean; she wondered if it was painful to die. Whether one just melted away like mousse on the tongue, or if there was a brief struggle with the Hooded Reaper before one surrendered with a sigh.
The water did not slap her like a cement floor but parted and received her like a turquoise down blanket. She knew she was dreaming, then.
Life would never be this perfect. Never this simple. Just her, and the sky, the sea.
2 comments:
seriously that was good! it made me think- it made me read it three times. it tool me a while to understand it, but i just marvelled at the way you put it. love the way you equate life with the sea. i so look up to you man!
I honestly didn't know what I was trying to write in that though. I was feeling sooo down that I wanted to just fade and (not die) but painlessly evaporate to become part of the mist and the sea and the air and perhaps that's where the entry came from.
Thanks:) Comments like yours keep me writing.
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