All of these poems were written by me. Do not re-post or steal them.

 

The salty sea air mists into my hair, coagulates and runs down my face and into the corners of my eyes and mouth. The sting, the bite, the howl of the wind creases my eyes, ruffles my brow, as laughter fills my throat. A hearty roar to the sea erupts from within, to the great devils of this creation. It sings of defiance, of thrill, of loss. A thunderclap to be heard for a hundred miles as great swells of salt sweep the decks, stalking for an unsuspecting quarry. The rough grit of wood under my bare feet creaks and moans, screaming in pain as she is wrenched and torn by the wind and the sea. The sharp cracking report of rope and sail made taught, of muscle and gristle grinding, to control the vast and wretched forces at work. The great expanse, the crushing blows of this wetted plane try with will to gash apart, to pull us down to the cold and chilly depths. To bestill the movement and pace of a voyage, a man, a roar to the squall. But this is not the day that the wetted beasts which crawl, spray, and stalk around this sanctuary of timber will taste victory. Today, the vast and unknown depths, the chill, the salt, the wind, will all be brought to heal.

 

And therefore, when I wake, I cry out for the depths of sleep, and when I sleep, I cry out for wakefulness to rise me from slumber so that I may, once more, drink from the cup of consternation. For, in the space between sleep and wake, lies my petulance. Sorrow is a dear friend; she is a constant companion. Feeling her chilly claws rake across my brow stirs me deep down into the depths of my own desolation. And in the end, when the last good fight has been fought, I will pass to the other realm and wait for her in slumber once more.

 

When I look to the stars I see the infinities of infinities, the dark cold beyond, calling longingly to my soul. To search their endless depths betwixt the systems is the terminal prize. The sights, the stench, the tang of far off adventure beckons to my bones for a journey once more. To explore those hidden lengths of timeless expanse is the never ending, never fulfilling search for an unattainable grasp upon the humanity to which I throw myself. If at the conclusion of my mortal coil I find this entranced gateway to another dimensional horizon, well then, well then I shall take the leap of impossibilities and embark upon this new venture. Because, to exploit the immense treasures of the stars, a man must begin by first searching the endless depths, the dark cold beyond, of his own, mortal essence.

 

A walk in the forest, a paddle on the water, splashing in the puddles, foraging for wood, life begins. Dust in the face, steel ribbons in the hair, grease stained rims, coffee on the breathe, the search continues. A startle in the night, searching for the light, a reassuring caress, sight coming clear, focus returning. Weekend play, weekend walks, weekend smiles. Night cuddles, night chocolate, night kisses, sleep. Bacon coffee Saturdays, hammock trees, reading and drinking, life simplicity, reassuring. Naps in the sling. Music in my bones, scent flares of memories past, gentle kisses, whiskey days, shadey stoops, hands held. Life in the moment, life of adventure, life of multitudes, life of my life, heart and soul given, heart and soul returned. The trees grow tall, the plants drink the light, the soil is renewed. Circles. Spirals. Starting. Stopping. Intertwined. Mixing and creating. Life, the soul, your purpose, our passions, we, us, you, me. The next is yet to come. The light always remains, dim, warm, hot, cool, shaded, on, never off. The warm glow of love.

 

And when I sleep, I dream for the break of nights long rest upon my temples and coursing through my skin. My veins are highways of life, coagulated with the bloated cells of memory, for reprieve and recharge. I beg for the sun, the warmth, on my skin. To feel it’s embrace and hug, scent of orange blossom, ringing buzz of bees, clipped scent of the broken blades of grass. Under heels, life flows and the world turns. Ants march and worms wiggle their ways through vast labyrinths unseen. Twisting paths of life under our world in the great dance. The awakening comes on strong and at the same time, languid. Bleary eyes, sun bleached smiles. A yawn to the world, announcing yet another glorious attempt to suck it all dry. Again we march on, again we drink of the life of this land, of the many lives and paths, intertwined, constantly shifting and arcing. And the steady beat of life goes on.

 

In the blink of an eye, everything can change. Be it love, life, your soul. Carefulness goes so far. Timidity will not prepare you. Aggressive actions can harm just as fast they can cure. Rushing into something can sometimes be a good thing. They can sometimes be the last and only resort. Pull it off quick. Do not give fate a chance to screw it up again. Do not apologize or ask permission, just run full steam ahead and jump towards the finish line. Sometimes this is the best bet. Sometimes, this can save your life. When you feel exhausted and like all of your options are gone. When you feel sleepy although you are wide awake. When you feel you have tried to change the direction of your life for the better just to find out that you are still trapped. JUMP! Try not to be afraid. Focus on the positives. Do not look back. Climb that mountain and reach the top. Once there, leap out as far as you can. If you truly believe you will fly, maybe you will. But you won’t know until you jump.