My Ocean

The gurgling, sputtering sound of the seeping siphoned soul. If only these leaks were as easy to fix as the leaks in my jeep. A mere wrench and a ratchet, a simple clamp and my time; but none of these things will fix the hole in my soul.

Feeling incompetent and more so unneeded, it’s funny how a few insignificant words can form such a devastating statement.

Beneath formally crafted, yet recently renewed facades, we shade our eyes. The eyes are the windows to the soul. When one opens the silken curtains that adorn the panes of crystal-like glass, one is welcoming in the prying eyes and critical judgement of those they let in.

When one opens the windows, people start knocking on the door, and the more you let in, the greater chance you will have, of being forgotten once more.

You are my morning coffee, the one thing that brings my smile out to play.

You are the dirt, mountainous trails beneath the wheels of my bike that lead and guide me, pushing me forward farther and faster than I ever thought I could go.  

You are the steady grip on the wrench handle that aids me in the maintenance of my only companion, my jeep.

You are the sun that sets every night behind my house, bringing darkness to my world; but you are also the rising sun that keeps me waking up every morning.

You are the child’s storybook that allows my imagination to run wild, and sets me free into a world all my own; however you are also the years that graze by my growing fingers, urging them less and less to flip through those fading pages, once vibrant with colour.

You are the roads that lead me new and exciting places, always giving me a safe, assured escape.

You were the ocean.

The ocean I adore; the one I can never be too far from. You were the ocean.

The ocean that cradled my body for hours on end as I soaked in its gently rocking waves that caressed my cheeks every so often, and swayed me back and forth into a relaxed state of which I need; you were the ocean. You were my ocean.

I, on the other hand, am the morning paper, blowing, page by page, away in the evening breeze.

I am the fleeting glimpse of a childhood photo as you flip through your dusty album.

I am the moon that reflects light for all the people in the world, when everyone is asleep.

I am the wailing, trailing, never failing, but always curtailing howl of the lone wolf hidden just beyond the scaling horizon.

I am the agile leap of a dolphin out of the glistening waves.

And you were the ocean.