I Am The Harbor

I said “I really dig you” and she said “What are you, a shovel?” and then I fell into a hole with silk walls and fresh linens but it started to rain so heavy that I couldn’t see more than a few inches in front of me, but I could reach my hand out and touch her face and it made me feel safe to know she was in my presence even if I was a breath away from drowning. Thought about gowning her and then remembered I’d not a penny to my name, though I did have about a million in my wishing well, maybe she’s a dreamer too. Maybe the moment to her is more than monetary, more like a miracle. If she’d have me naked and broke, with faith, surely she’ll know that one day I’ll be rich and clothed. All that art coming out of me must make some income? Right? I think I’m big on that, on faith. Trust me my darling, I am a warrior despite my blanket. I strive for courage despite my tears. I am humble despite my many hats. I will be good to you, even if I’m bad at it at first. Because I recognize that two lights shine brighter than one, and when they’re pointed in the same direction, a single powerful force distinguishes darkness. And though at this time, the electricity bill is extremely high, I have faith in the sun. With the solar power of her warmth against mine we’ll see in the dark just fine. And if I stumble and fail to find crumbs, the substance of her gaze will never let me succumb to hunger. And if she should feel unprepared for the journey to the west, I will carry her with what little strength I have left. We will fall together upward toward a cosmos that spins in the palm of a pure loving spirit. If you listen, you can hear it. Asking you to be a man, a hue, a human. Stand with me, my love. With your hand laced in mine, our shoes will be tight as we surf into the night with flashlights beaming from our chests in search of land in spite of our love for the almighty water. And if you must search the sky a while before you find the purpose of the moon, I will humbly sit beneath the Bodhi tree and sing. My head bowed toward yours, accept this melody, for I have not diamond rings. Only diamond eyes for you, my dear. And if you measure time in years, the pleasure will be mine when the clocks have disappeared, by your reflection on my cup of water, I sip you for eternity, and to your son I am the father, and to your ship, I am the harbor. Take my hand, grip it harder.

One clap, two clap, three clap, forty?

By clapping more or less, you can signal to us which stories really stand out.