I have become so still
Like the water of a pond
And will stay this way until
Come the rains, oh so fond

I have become so silent
Like the grass of a plain
This way to remain, until
The winds come again

I have become so patient
In waiting for noise, I know
Sound; as it came and went
It will come and go

I sunk to the bottom of the ocean once. Though it wasn't really all that grand. Everything that I saw was either shrouded in darkness, or a silty haze. The water was cold and the currents were violent. They ****** me too and fro.

Now, don't get me wrong, I like it there at the bottom of the ocean, it's calm and it's dark and it soothes the fires of a soul like mine. The passage there however is the part that hurts so much, for before you may sink into the silky silt of the ocean floor and become neighbors with the *****, you must descend through the turbulence and the dangerous anglerous fish that inhabit the places betwixt.

I suppose the hardest part about the journey is saying goodbye to the sunshine that you grew to love, after having spent time, from the ocean floor.

Someone drags you up and you see the sun and you start to laugh more, and you start to love more and everything starts to feel warm and beautiful again. You look at that someone that brought you up and wrought you into shape and  you see such beauty. They shine like the sun, no, they are even better.

But sometimes,

They abandon us.

That is not to say we are doomed to sink back down, they do not hold us here, as we do not hold them. We are free to remain on the surface with the sunlight.

Most of us choose to jump back in, though.

Let the ocean swallow us whole once again.

Some swim back to the surface, determined to, perhaps, be more than a friendly newspaper conversation with a crustacean.

However, many just live there, unwilling, unable, to go anywhere else.

I sunk, to the bottom of the ocean once. Or twice, and a few times after that. Always finding a reason to swim back, sometimes I am dragged back. No matter which way though and honestly, how matters not, I always end up back on that beach.

Waiting, watching the ocean. Wondering, pondering the possibilities and if I should wade back out and sink down once again.

The ocean surely is a frightful thing.

Just be honest, my love
I know why it is like this
The dull shine in your eye
The ash I taste in your kiss

I know who you are, love
Why we must be this way
Why the river flows so cold
Why the clouds cover the day

I found it in your heart, dear
The darkness that I now see
My heart is rotten, love
You are right, to run from me

I tried to be like the winter
Cold in my words and talks
Like my words were ice
And prose was an icebox

I tried to be the winter
An indifferent little soul
My deeds unheeded indeed
But the freeze did takes its toll

I wanted listen to the rain
White breath on my window
All I could hear was icy wind
And always did it blow

And always will it blow

4:22 am blinks

I like being here so late at night
When I am the only one alive
When I don't feel lonely anymore
There is no one to talk to anyhow

I will close my eyes to sleep and know
When I wake, everyone is awake
And then there are people I can talk to
But I wont, or I cant, so I am lonely


4:22 is the witching hour

But I like being the only one alive

You bring only rain
I said, and I looked
Off in the distance
A chilly gray day

You bring only cold
You said, and I listened
But you said in time
That you still loved me

And only then
Did I hear the rain
When it was gone

And I realized in time
That I still love you