Sand

Some days the thickness is so severe I can’t move from underneath the weight of its oceans. Some days the sweeping winds blow away the path forward from the dirt at my feet. It feels like sand. Everything feels like sand.

It collects in the creases of my hands. It wisps away in swirls of varying shapes, indistinguishable and unrecognizable. It floats and falls through my brain like a snow globe. The thoughts and ideas flicker in and out, but ultimately prove ungraspable as my consciousness sinks just beneath them into a sea of feeling.

I’m operating in the tidal zone. Nothing is really here. Not even the shapes in the sand. Not even the life it harbors. Castles built with joy provide a momentary spark of inspiration that puts one foot in front of the other, but the tracks get covered up, twisted and filled in – and I lose my way.

I follow the movement of the ocean, like sand, and I feel weightless underwater.
Suspended in air. Suspended in water. Until the stillness comes and I drop back down to Earth.

Until the stillness comes.