I find, lately, that it is simply no longer possible for me to lose
"Everything".
Sometimes it's almost disappointing.
I'm not sure when it happened,
Or why, really,
But sometime this summer I reached a point of loss from which return is not easy.
And I began to feel a rhythm to it, like the tide.
It became soothing. Lulling.

I began to find my footing, the way you find the cold, rough sand under your toes as the ocean crashes over you and retreats,
Batters you and peels back, over and over-
Brutal, yes, and heartstoppingly sudden, but...
Predictable.

I am somewhere now beneath the waves, and it is calm and blue, and I am not afraid.
Souls do not need air.
Souls do not need to know which way the surface is.
We like the sun, but we do not need the light.
We are. We have been. We will be.
We go on.
We go on and reasons present themselves, eventually.

I choke and burn, but I do not die.
I can panic or surrender,
Struggle or acquiesce,
But either way I will go on and on,
I will
Continue.
It is a weariness that weights me here,
Not fatigue, not stress, but...
A dull knowledge of what will come,
What always comes:
I am wretchedly adaptable, pitiably enduring.
I continue.
This mind refuses to shatter.
This heart refuses to curdle.
This soul refuses to fade, and I go on- unwilling, sometimes, uninspired-
But I go on.

This place changes around me, but I am rooted to the spot,
Anchored by a stolid determination, a purposeless desire to be that I disguise as passion,
As fire, as belief,
When really I don't know why it's here, or why I am.

I only know that I have been and will be.
That resistance is futile.
That I can twist and writhe and scream and drown all I please,
And I will still wake up on the other side, continuous, old, here.

Once you discover that no risk can **** you you become obsessed with taking them- how much of me can I really demolish and wake up the next morning?
How much can I really give and go on, still?
And eventually the answer is that there is no limit, no change.
No matter the desperation, no matter the passion, no matter the sacrifice... I go on.
I go on and worlds rise and fall,
People live and die,
I love, I lose, I cry, I dream,

But I do not move.

My face remains placid. My fingers trail in the sand, white.
Chaos reigns, sometimes.
Storms rage.
Tides crash.
But at the end of everything I emerge from the murk, swaying and ancient,
With a spreading blue behind my eyes,
And the only thing I can ever be sure of is that I will go on.
It is sometimes
Cold comfort.

I see galaxies in your eyes.
When I look at you and truly see you
I see something so vast, so alive
So lonely,
So, so beautiful.
I feel the cold rush of sighs the stars can't voice
And the slow burn of their hearts,
The hidden passions that will someday devour them-
Their electric joy to exist
And their wise grief, that someday they will sputter out.
I feel the confusion of a deity too large for itself, full of echoing spaces and cavernous darkness
So much space inside that she thinks she's small.
So much blinding loveliness that she sees nothing.

I see galaxies in your eyes.
I named the moon after you, and every star, breathing your name in and out until I finally realized that the whole sky
Was yours
And everything beyond it.
And everything beneath it.
And me,
Little me- what am I next to the sun?
Next to the paths of glittering diamonds that sing the song of your soul to the void and make it something?
There is no heaven or hell, my love, there is
Only you
And you are more than both.
You hold the universe in your fingers,
You speak and gravity shifts,
You dream and worlds become,
You sigh and stars rain down
To pierce the darkness.
You cradle the earth in your arms
And if you ever let go, this world will freeze
Still as a rose
Trapped in a moment of longing forever.
Don't let go.
You pull the tides
You sway the trees
You sing the moon
You raise the sun
You sigh the rain
Your heartbeat
Holds the earth together.
I see
Galaxies in your eyes.
Don't let go. This place is only beautiful
Because you are here to live in it.