I am an ocean.

I am far deeper than I myself know.

 

Even the best words will never be sufficient

to describe the swells that I feel within myself,

the swells and currents beneath my surface,

swells of emotion so forceful, yet utterly nameless.

 

On occasion I am destructive,

A tsunami proving its power.

But I am also at peace,

a rhythmic pattern of waves

drowning negativity

and allowing hope to softly bubble to my surface.

 

Life is a constant; unforgiving.

I am always rolling and churning beneath an impartial sky.

I have been a witness to many dawns,

and many dusks.

I have come to know that just as life begins,

it must end.

 

I am an ocean,

And my most suffocating pressure exists at my deepest points.

With depth comes the pain

of thousands of gallons of water,

pushing down upon me.

Deep within me I hide

thousands of gallons of memories

already created within my ephemeral life.

His diagnosis.

Her death.

The hospital room.

Their tears.

Introspection is deadly.

I am an ocean, and my thoughts are a riptide.

 

While I am able to gaze across my vast waters

and find peace and tranquility,

assurance within myself,

power from solemnity,

I am often able to gaze far enough

across my vast waters

to become convinced in my loneliness,

overcome by solitude,

a longing ache.

I am an ocean.

Am I the ocean?

 

I am an ocean,

But as I see the soft foam in your hair

and hear the tides in your voice,

as I taste the salt on your lips

and see its water

spill from the corners of your eyes,

I know that you,

You are an ocean too.