Ocean

Ocean

On edge.
Retaining more knowledge than is safe.
Seeing in all directions.
Standing on a pillar above the ocean.
Peace for a while.
Now the sun burns.
Happiness was never the point.
Truth is creation.
Creation of the self.
But the self cannot be molded without experience.
It is clay, being stoned within an inch of its life.
Truth is obtained.
All knowing, or knowing when to quit.
Knowing the pillar will collapse.
Indifference toward the inevitable.
Shattering tower.
All that held you.
Nostalgic, feeling the cycle become complete.
Hitting the water.
Comfort, knowing that Mother loves you.
Whether or not what you think you know is true is irrelevant.
Reality is the way you perceive it to be.
The water, seeming solid at first, softens and seeps around your outline.
Acceptance.
Settling on the ocean's sandy floor, knowing everything will come down to meet you.
Right and wrong are just words.
Not caring, whether or not you ever breathe again.
Your previous breath leaving you satisfied and ready for the shallow breath of sleep.