Leaving Paradise

Move
mo·v [moo-v]

—Verb

1.  To go from one place of residence to another.

2. Stir or evoke strong feelings or emotions.

I sit on our deck, the mezzanine seats of the phenomenal and inconstant play that is the ocean. This will be one of the last nights I will view this, experience this, feel this, smell this, hear this, or taste this. The last night I will be at the place I’ve called home for a biennial. I sit cross-legged and I stare at the sea. As I gaze, my eyes go out of focus as the occasional tears trickle out of them. The rays of the moon that are glistening on the cresting waves, being viewed through little translucent beads falling from my eyes, suddenly begin to look like illuminated bedrock on the ocean floor. Sometimes they even resemble colossal whales glowing fluorescent blue under the ever-changing liquid hills. I know my body temperature is below what it should be and a part of me wants to go inside, but the desire to try and soak up the, over all, ambiance is stronger. I start to lightly shiver, but I am anchored in this position for the time being. The sound of the waves, the cool ocean air, the red ring around the moon, the clouds creeping through the endless expanse of sky, and the sparkling stars, all give me a refreshed feeling, like I am completely in touch with myself and in tune with nature; a feeling like I am renewed and can restart fresh. The feelings I felt and the setting in which I felt these emotions, can never be repeated. I will never be able to fully, verbally express everything about this last, late night excursion to the beach house deck. Everything was too grand, too perfect, too unique, too revitalizing and restoring to explain. But I can say this with full confidence, this experience will forever be one of my favorite memories of this house I’ve thrived in for 2 exceptional years.

Out Here

Out here, I sit.

With the sound of loons, slow waves, and spring peepers-

Sounds that have become familiar to my ears,

But will soon no longer be heard

Or perceived in the same way.

I observe lovers below,

Lovers both human and Aves,

Flying-

Soaring-

Knowing they have one another.

I,

with little cover up,

I do not feel the lonely chill

In this cold haze I ascertain and encounter

Because good people,

Comforting memories,

And refreshing encouragement

Bring so much warmth

To my core.

It radiates throughout me

And kindles fire in my soul

That thaws the pillars of ice that had slowly formed within me.

These icy stalagmites-

I could not and still cannot fully comprehend.

Yet, they put me in a hypothermic state,

Tiring me and clouding my perceptions
Of the important things in life.

Constantly stabbing the points that were most delicate,

Yet, wounding my strongest points in the same way–

Leaving my being exhausted beyond belief,

But after opening my heart fully in writing and in satisfying and consoling verbalization of thought,

While others do the same,

I feel rebooted back and revived.

I receive the awareness of being genuinely

Loved,

Wanted,

Appreciated,

Respected,

And valued.

Making me feel the same, in return, about others.

The fog on the mirror has evaporated

And I can exhale in contentment.

Apeirogonal Perspective

I see everything in life from an apeirogonal perspective.

Infinite sides to things that I see only by being a person who is reflective.

Curiosity, I believe, can keep you in sync, as long as it’s confined to only what you think.

Thoughts do swirl within.

Oh how they spin–

In my mind it’s never dim.

These thoughts, then, consist of, the list of examples thereof:

What is to come next?

What makes people vexed?

Why are only some vindicated, while more are immolated?

Why do friends & family mitigate, when others just debilitate?

Is there ever rhyme or reason,
to human beings repletion?

Do dogs see in greyscale?

How do people even read braille?

Why is there comfort in the word pillow?

Why do the waves billow?

Why do we think some things vain, but other things go through so much pain to attain?

Why are some people’s brains sometimes so clouded, so much that people are astounded?

How does a person at one time so wise, lose all wisdom once they gaze into their lover’s eyes?

Why are some nights spend in consistent thought, when another nights it’s as if my brain had a clot?

Why does inspiration come at random, usually after reading someone else’s memorandum?

Why do sometimes things quickly flow from my throat, yet other times my lips are like a dried up moat?

Questions eddy in my mind,

when answers aren’t quick to find.