They say grief comes in waves varying in size and intensity; some start small, moving silently, might seem harmless but engulf me within no time and I was never taught how to swim.
Thrashing and flailing in the water I find it difficult to breathe. The seas of sadness pull me far into their abyss where there is no light or hope to get out of the misery; sometimes even that feels enticing and comforting.
On other days these waves come roaring loud in the ears, threatening to steal my ground away from me, often I brave to surf over them with the help of distractions and they recede, scheming to gulp me down later.
Wonder how I end up on these shores every time while on a train or on my bed, in a classroom or in a conference hall, amongst the crowded streets and when alone, memories of yesterday strewn like sea shells lead me to the waters and I can always hear their elegies.
And when the moon shines its brightest on them, you get to see the scene of tranquillity but deep inside my heart there is a storm brewing slowly that takes various names every season, maybe there is one named after you too, who knows.
Do you want to come with me down to the ocean of tears? We could let those waves kiss our feet while we watch the sunset together, I will tell you all my stories and you could share yours too. I hope you know how to swim.
I never saw the scarp begin, Nor the haunted plains of gold; Forlorn, I watched the waves move in— How their snow-laden peaks enfold! And without the call of tri-formed reefs— Echoing: mosaic-to-mosaic shore— I would not have seen the heart therein, Nor the light henceforth bestowed.
To sit with myself and the mayhem that lies within, listening to the inner voice that was silenced by ridicule and speculation, to understand the longing hidden in the whispers of my mind's scape, I choose peace, for the stagnant waters that once frighten me welcome my decision wholeheartedly, I am not afraid anymore, drawing boundaries and barriers to my spirit, dimming my outer appeal and channeling my intuition inward, I choose peace.
Fireflies float in lightless rooms, Spelling out words with fluid constellations And my heart still tender from afternoon Drugged up and fussed with the want of rain Interprets these flecks of dancing as love letters to pain
I think of dreaming and I think of you Somewhere basking in summer rain While I fall for foolish stories written on the windows of a midnight train These conversations that go nowhere heavily soaked in honey stick to my tongue
These whisperings float in pools of ink Like the daunting midnight sea, But i'm too far gone into this dream state Yet ready to drown, before I can hesitate, In this ocean that you call home
just to spite you i hope the angels rain down on you all the joy and love one could possibly take in this life enough is never enough for you deserve the world ten times over if all the oceans transform into pure bliss and emptied themselves on your spirit i hope it won’t make a difference.
A Thought: Maybe there is no grand crescendo to the human symphony Maybe life ends, and begins, on a prolonged refrain A steady, repeating, fading rhythm The only flourish of a lonely universe Trying desperately, in its way, to find a dance partner for the darkness Eternity; our veiled mistress waiting past the mist For the light to outrun an endlessly unfurling landscape of black The space between The mimicry of a photograph, and the true shape of the memory That a frame can never quite squeeze Those lost edges lie in wait Just beyond a waking moment, and the closing scene of our final dream A place not lost, but yet to be found That is all, For now.