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Saturday 19 October 2013

Subtle Advice



It is with a heavy heart that I write these words. 

My touch lamp burns away next to me at this 3am morning as I lose myself in that night at sea feeling. 

I imagine the loneliness that one would experience at this time of night out there, somewhere under only the eyes of God swimming between all the mysteries of the deep beneath. The vast unseen darkness traveling more than our evolution has allowed us to know. There, alone on the still and gently swaying waves, eyes at half mast, breathing full lungs of salt cold air living only on memories and wholesome fears. The want to just dive in and abandon, to swim down until you are able to sink and at your last moments’ lucidity perhaps, just perhaps, you will be met by the sights that no man has ever survived to see and you can pass onto the next land with just a light and brushing smile as Earth’s water delivers your waterlogged body to the noble abyss of lost at sea souls. 

But you don’t jump. You just know that you could. 

That is enough to send the shiver of tears through your bones, the type that makes you pray for the caul of childhood blanket and fetal curl with closed eyes to luxury dreams, but you don’t. You stand out on the bow and hold on with your shivering hands to the blistering wood, worn through valiant journey histories, you stand there and hold your chest up high for yes, everyone is a child, but you have paid your dues, you have taken a hold of your troubles, you have worked through your pains and you have taken those lessons holding onto your life then just as you are now. You are experience and you are proud that you have survived. And so you stand there ready for the full power of the black and blue night, and you pray for more, you hope that in any second a giant whale the like of which beauty you have never seen or your eyes have never been able to truly comprehend might just make its own voyage to the surface of the sea and dwarf your boat to merely quiver in its miracle shadow which, though making the night ever darker, breaks your soul to a new realm of light the likes of which you will cry to tell your grandchildren of. That moment that will never escape you. The likes of which you will dream of and wake up elated again and again, just thankful for the grace of being born, again and again. 

But no whale comes. But still, you sail on into the unseen ahead. 

The moon and stars are the only lights that dare show their face here in the middle of nowhere world. Time has forgotten you and you, have forgotten time. The wind picks up. The moon pulls the waves as the boat rocks gently more. And more. And then you feel the rush of peril pour through your veins as you know what could come. And still you stand there. You just want to watch death come for you, to die with your eyes open. Not to miss a moment. The waves begin to crash and pound as the wind picks its pace and slowly the hit of rain becomes apparent on the back of your neck. You are not about to leave to take shelter, oh no. This is the all or nothing night under which you have laid your sins, confessed to the old heroin moon that you have wronged and caused ill too many times and reckoning must prevail. This is your christening moment whereby your judgement will come and yes you will submit to the word and the consequence. Crash the waves more. Hail the storm more. Darken the skies more. Hide the pale face of the moon away now, let not its innocence be sullied by this hell about to be unleashed upon your mortal body and Heavenly soul. 

And still you stand at the bow. Still you dig your nails into the now damp wood, carving your fossil for the moment. The ship she sways back and forth, spewing her guts for dear life. Not afraid at the bow. Welcoming and eyes open wide. Let the only light be lightening and let the thunder attempt to drown your bellowing heart as it pours ferociously from your barrel chest this night. Shake the existence of this good ship. Test her bones and break her flesh should that be Gods will. You stand inviting. Accepting. Allowing with absolutely zero resistance in any morsel of atom or saintly tail as your feet are lifted from the ground with each giant sway. Images of sea creatures of horrifying sizes reaching out with their tentacles to pull you down to the watery depths of death hallucinate vehemently through your failing limbs and still you will not surrender or succumb to fear. You are here. She is you. This is it. And all the night in all of the world will never know of your blood red horror and anguish on this voyage to the grave but at peace you will be and this you know more than anything. Seething through your last goodbye comes all the images of childhood, mothers, lovers, heroes, fathers, sisters, brothers, friends, pets, families, dances, moments, photos, writings, scents, tunes, sugars and warmths that you have ever been fruitful enough to grow and at the crescendo of joyous and exuberant ecstasy now washed by silent and lost calls of ocean murmur. There, you lend your goodbye. There, you bid your grievances to the wind and lay back to the worry of the world as it patters away from your last moment toes and there, under the wing of the oceans last wave, you die, alone, and you were not afraid.

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