Often I think of the sea is a piece of land too afraid of bearing weight
But then I think the land is also afraid of the loneliness
That only a sea can know.
Then the memory of stillness awakes me like a turbine
Motioned by a gush of murderous waters
Only to find out that the bearing of these two is unrivalled
The sea bears from the inside and if spelt properly can carry desires
And land is too ready to show what it contains inside.
I have learnt that it’s too easy to loose yourself in the stillness of despair
Too easy to whisper all the songs of pain into the ears of love
As if the verses are too sequenced, too provoking
To sink one completely in the consistent gleams of melancholia
Then one is bound to toss freely in the storms of jilted waves.
You’ll think you are home, safer from the whims of an old song
That heats up the rock of desperation that you have long learnt to cover
Only in the highest tones of jest and you’ve sought balance
Shrouded yourself from the possibility of breaking down.
Time has shown you that the only strength you possess is to dry your eye
And that is the problem
Haven’t you paused in the journey of lament?
Tried hammering your inaudible screams out of you
But all that came out was halted by a strange icy sound
That made you run to the dwindling corner of your abode
That has become inhabitable due to the amount of copious sadness it has endured
Yet you know that it’s selfish to be strong,
It’s selfish to keep being okay to everyone else.
At times, you’ve thought how your humility could be tempered by weakness
Since you know that the solitude of the wind is only interrupted by the things it collects in its path
The things it sizzles into life, like trying to you
But you say, you are young and maybe you’ll learn with time
Then consistency rears its ugly head and you are left hissing
Amazingly unable to pour
But deep inside you want to take the cemetery of darkness away from your heart and soul.
If there is one thing you hate is how the rain hugs the ground
And how it seeps without problem and blends as if it was waiting to be discharged
From the clouds, somewhere you crave to be
Then you remember how the sea accommodates
And how the land accommodates too.
You are left stuck in the middle
Should you be a Sabbath hymn that can be sang in different voices
And keep accommodating without pouring
Or should you be a shark and attack your darkness to the very bottom of your soul
To get a chance to cry it all out?