Day XXXVI: Never Let Me Go

Looking up from underneath, 

fractured moonlight on the sea. 

Reflections still look the same to me 

as before I went under.

I've learned things. Some about myself, some about others. Slices of general knowledge found their way into my head and heart somewhere in there as well. And for all the different places we go and trinkets we acquire and snippets of truth we find, I'm inclined to believe that the most important and powerful belong to the individual. What I mean is this: whenever we learn about ourselves, our learning is vital. 

And it's peaceful in the deep

cathedral where you cannot breathe.

No need to pray, no need to speak

Now I am under all.

After all, you can never escape yourself.

And it's breaking over me

A thousand miles down to the sea bed

found a place to rest my head.

And, often, that can be a suffocating feeling. You are never really alone because your shadow, your soul, your being will always be right there with you. 

And the arms of the ocean are carrying me.

And all this devotion came rushing out of me.

And the crashes are heaven, for a sinner like me,

but the arms of the ocean deliver me.

Unless you don't believe in your own shadow, in your soul. I suppose, then, you can be as lonely as you choose to be. But maybe we don't choose loneliness? Perhaps it's some invisible specter that floats, person to person, tickling the hairs above your ears or trailing an icy finger along your spine. Maybe loneliness is a spider, crawling along the floor and into your mouth while you sleep, tracking dust and grime as it finds its way silently down your throat.

Though the pressure's hard to take,

it's the only way I can escape.

It seems a heavy choice to make,

Now I am under.

Or maybe she sits across from you in the office, at lunch, in your home. Does she wait for opportunity? Does she slither like a serpent across the wood and wind her way over the cook of your knee and the curve of your hip? Perhaps she strikes, fangs bared and warning. Maybe she's loud like a clap of thunder or the explosion of steel and sparks in a car wreck.

And it's breaking over me

A thousand miles down to the sea bed

found a place to rest my head.

You would notice her then, right? You would foresee loneliness rising back on it's haunches, preparing to leap and pounce and tackle and bite. You would feel the wind drop and ground quake. You would see the trees stop and snow melt. You would watch the birds listen. You would hear the cats stop.

And the arms of the ocean are carrying me.

And all this devotion came rushing out of me.

And the crashes are heaven, for a sinner like me,

but the arms of the ocean deliver me.

But would you do a thing about it? Could you do a thing about it? No matter what form loneliness takes, perhaps her inevitability is what sets her apart. She does not subside like rage or bloom like happiness. She settles. She lingers.

And it's over,

And I'm going under.

But I'm not giving up:

I'm just giving in.

Slipping underneath.

So cold, and so sweet.

She moves in.

In the arms of the ocean, so sweet and so cold

and all this devotion I never knew at all.

And the crashes are heaven for a sinner released.

The arms of the ocean deliver me.

And frightening, isn't it, how you can let her live, so complacent and unbothered? How used to her fingers, wrapped like tendrils around bricks, increasingly unsteady and worrisome, you can become? You didn't let her in, but you chose to let her stay. At her worst, she can make you ill. At her best?

Never let me go, never let me go.

Never let me go, never let me go.

At her best she'll never let you go.