a love like oceans
When we first met, I was a dreamer.
I dreamt of worlds, peoples, stories oceans away. Galaxies away perhaps.
I dreamt that one day, after traversing these oceans and galaxies, I would find a soul who would ignite a blaze within mine.
This dream kept me awake night after night, following me like a ghost trailing a lonesome traveler.
It was a dream that clawed its way to the forefront of my daily thought. Midday meditation soon gave way to haphazard daydreams.
Then, as always, high tide came ‘round and swept me off. Away into an ocean of longing.
And I found myself navigating uncharted waters with no compass in hand.
When we last met, I was a dreamer still.
Stubborn, forlorn, hopeless.
I wanted you to be an anchor, keeping me afloat and still.
I wanted you to be a lighthouse, an indicator that, at long last, I had reached shore.
I wanted you to be a seaside cottage, a home in which I found respite. I would spend my days in your shelter, and in the embrace of the ocean breeze.
Instead, you appeared as a buoy. Adrift at sea, albeit more anchored than most.
Nevertheless, nothing more than mile marker in this journey of mine with no end in sight.
This dream, I now ask myself, at what point will it end? When will I wake from slumber? Did I perhaps forget to set my alarm?
This ocean between us — whoever you are — its waves crash with good intentions. But a storm is still a storm, and I wonder now if it will ever pass.
I dream of you — wherever you are — and I hope that you are happy. I hope the shore on your side of the sea makes you feel alive. And I hope that you, too, find your seaside cottage and that it will shelter you from storms still to come.
And I,
I will remain the drunken sailor,
weaving poems and daydreams,
lost at sea.
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