watching the days go by from the middle of the ocean

Like the sea brushing up against the stones,

engulfing its crevices in repetitive, cool refreshing vitality,

I too am tickled, as soon as I begin to forget,

by the waves of impermeable impermanence— cool, refreshing, revitalizing.

Is it a crutch, or is it okay?

Am I proud to say that I no longer know the meaning of a ‘day’,

Instead living my life through experiences and memories and thoughts,

Most of which are fleeting and irrelevant, but not wastes of my time—

And some, some of them stick.

And the one’s that stick,

Oh I think those are what makes me, “me”,

in the grand scheme of things.

But if you were to look at me, moment-by moment,

Who would you see?

You may see fear, or confusion,

Coping, or evasion.

You could very well see joy, contentment,

Reckless optimism amidst a vast ocean of uncertainty….

They’re all the same to me, in this state,

where I’m no longer waiting for another chance to kiss the shoreline;

For the view of the rising and setting sun from my place in this purgatory

is far too beautiful to spare.