If my mind were the ocean, today it would reflect your face.
I delve into it occasionally, under the surface.
On placid days I can explore the depths, sifting through treasures and exploring hidden recesses. Occasionally a monster is found; often I resurface in cold shock, fleeing from such a thought, but not today. Today I’m not scared. I only make notes, like a scientist, disinterested and observational.
You flicker in the depths too; maybe that’s where I first found you. A new discovery, like any of these bizarre beasts. One to mark in the journal.
I like to explore the deepest reaches, however taxing it may be; but sometimes I cannot enter the depths at all. The clouds are too heavy, too ominous. The waves are whipped by hungry waves, ravaging the shallows. Sometimes the sea itself is afire with foam, broiling in its anger.
It’s obvious, but let me explain: the ocean does not rest. It can be calm, yes, but there are always waves lapping against a shore somewhere. There’s always movement. It’s just when the entire sea is engulfed in storm, when the inner reaches are tormented by unrelenting currents, that the movement becomes too much- When the currents are like this, thrown off their normal patterns, there is no chance of seeing you. Or anyone for that matter.
You’re always in the middle heights of my ocean, below the vibrant colour of the shallows but still teetering above the darkness of deep water. People tend to float into my awareness here, falling somewhere between a shallow thought and the considered ponderings of the deep sea- I think perhaps that they alight on the thin shoreline, just as the winds do, and reside there for a time, before the ocean finds them too important a morsel (or to contentious a thorn) to leave be. Some are dragged in unwillingly, perhaps by the hungry, violent grasp of riptides- they become locked in the sea bed, amongst the waving kelp forests, a semi permanent fixture to be considered and fixed .
It is always a surprise to me, but some enter my waves by choice; they enter the depths with smiles upon their faces, taking to the water as if it were their home, and their life blood. I find them playing amidst the coral, nurturing their own additions to the nattering shoals that flutter past, tracing out their own conceptions within the salty trails of these balmy waters- they all influence, imperceptibly, enriching their environment in spurts of colour and warmth. Perhaps you are one of these– one who has come to find life and comfort, but also to give it back, in equal measure. In you I might find an equilibrium.
The reef itself is glorious, a multitude of conflicting thoughts- entering it is to slide into a clash of colours, a hub of bubbling silent noise and flitting shapes. Those bubbles hold your reflection, today. They rise up to the surface, bursting with a gasp of imperceptible sound. I hope no one notices their subtle, secretive words, which seem as loud as the howl of a storm to me.
I am in luck; no one hears, and my shallows remain empty. Thoughts are released here only so often- Anything deposited onto the beach is either sucked back in to the depths, a treasure too powerful to let loose, or quickly grasped by passing winds and thrown into the ether. Today, nothing loiters in the shallows. For miles and miles, the only thing visible, aside from the tinge of the summer evening’s light, is you.
The water is placid and warm. I would ask you to step in, join me in playful splashing; but I fear you might question the depths. Their contents. You’re probably wondering if there are any wrecks.