It was the time of summer where every kid had silently realized that it was ending,
No longer halfway through, no longer half full
Leaking and spilling out,
like the gas in my twenty two year old car
We couldn’t stop it,
And the moments of high school summertime
The moments that supposedly turn into stories we tell forever
Hadn’t seemed to have happened.

Both of us on the swing lazily swung
Dizzily from side to side.
Climbing forward, falling in reverse
Our combined bodyweight shifting back and forth
Tanned legs kicking up in an attempt at unison on every backwards glide.
Gravity hung us there,
Pulling the swing toward the ground no matter the rotation.

I sat on top.
I wore bleached shorts and bleached hair.
I worried that gravity or more so my value to it
would crush him.


At the same time, I felt unbelievably small.


The air pressed in on me from all angles,
it touched my bare legs
it easily waffled my shirt.

“Mel, if you were squishing me, I would let you know”,
he assured with a cocky tone of his very own that somehow made me feel special.
I couldn’t help but think he was only trying to be tough
Attempting to let sheer willpower overweigh my well earned quads,
My six foot frame.
The awkward body I never quite grew into
Never knew how to masterfully control
Never knew how to fill.
Though I secretly (wanted to) truly believe him

On this humid night I felt like the ball was in my court,
Like I could do anything and everything.
That nothing could go wrong
That the boy that I was sitting on was genuine
And that I could simply drive off to wherever.

(I had a full tank of gas and enough money to get me to Alabama).

I felt small in this,
in this infinity of possibility all around me.
Like a weight was pushing into me
Putting on pressure that couldn’t be ignored
That shrunk me just enough.
I felt powerless to fate
Powerless to this planet
To this grand, glorified hunk of earth which was so much greater than me
(and surely my insignificant weight anxieties).

I felt like the gas was leaking out faster than I could use it.
I felt like my infinity was disappearing as I swung within it.


Just like that, I let the ball drop and the gas leak out.
We just kept swinging.
Laughing,
Wasting,
Talking,

Dying.

Searching my heart for its true sorrow,
  This is the thing I find to be:
That I am weary of words and people,
  Sick of the city, wanting the sea;

Wanting the sticky, salty sweetness
  Of the strong wind and shattered spray;
Wanting the loud sound and the soft sound
  Of the big surf that breaks all day.

Always before about my dooryard,
  Marking the reach of the winter sea,
Rooted in sand and dragging drift-wood,
  Straggled the purple wild sweet-pea;

Always I climbed the wave at morning,
  Shook the sand from my shoes at night,
That now am caught beneath great buildings,
  Stricken with noise, confused with light.

If I could hear the green piles groaning
  Under the windy wooden piers,
See once again the bobbing barrels,
  And the black sticks that fence the weirs,

If I could see the weedy mussels
  Crusting the wrecked and rotting hulls,
Hear once again the hungry crying
  Overhead, of the wheeling gulls,

Feel once again the shanty straining
  Under the turning of the tide,
Fear once again the rising freshet,
  Dread the bell in the fog outside,—

I should be happy,—that was happy
  All day long on the coast of Maine!
I have a need to hold and handle
  Shells and anchors and ships again!

I should be happy, that am happy
  Never at all since I came here.
I am too long away from water.
  I have a need of water near.

it is about the time
when gold meets
the earth

the light emitted
romantically sings
the land to slumber

it is about the time
when thoughts drift
and eyes wander

they follow
painted brush strokes
made by pulling winds

it is about the time
you call
it is distant and faint

a sweet sound
carried to my ear
as it is meant to be

it is about the time
I turn to you in half light
As twilight fills your face

It is beautiful
soft and warm
in the waning sun

A frameless door.
Staggering in its height.
Shallow in its dull colourful haze.

A bottle of emptiness.
Hiding behind its shattered glass.
Speaking in voices only the unfamiliar can understand.

A lid closing all lightness.
Foreseeing only the darkness.
Staring eyes. Staring out of a windowless window.

Picking green from ripened soil.
Avoiding contact.
Leaving all the importance.

Speaking in whispers.
Closing the empty barrel.

Hawk hunting in the grey, last light
sliced the evening air
talons locking swift
two birds falling
black of night,
breathes death
to rise - calling
ever endless as
breath

When time began after the first second fell into nothingness and the world became more than a whisper, two beings met in the darkness and could not remember where they came from.
One green,
and one yellow.

Green preferred the fresh smell of the earth beneath his feet and the flow of water along his hands. Yellow preferred to give light to green, allowing him to work in peace and sending wind to wipe away any pain of toil.

Green and yellow began to grow fond of one another though and wanted more than just mutual work.
As time passed and the work of green and yellow grew beautiful in strength, their love grew more powerful and tender.

But in all their strength, they could not touch one another...
Their hands grew close but never enough to grasp one another. The light grew dim and green began to fade to brown...


...but...

When the will is strong and love gives birth in weary veins, miraculous things can happen.

In a moment of strength and the need to hold one another, green and yellow exploded in an attempt to reach each other...
and in that instant, blue was created across an endless path between them.

They both smiled and held each other softly, whispering things that mortal ears will never hear... but with the right ears you can hear their messages in the wind and the water..



So it will be until the last second stops.
When darkness is falling you can look to the west and see green meet yellow and embrace into the vast eternity.

The End.


-Joshua