Stay When the Winds Tell You To

I unexpectedly came across a great sea creature this year.

He's massive in the whole sense of the word, and majestic beyond words. He's beautiful in a melancholic type of way; the slight glimmer in his eyes shows how particular his existential dread is to him. His songs, the way he hums them with strict attentiveness, lulls his loneliness to sleep so that he may continue his journey despite the ache that has lived within him since his consciousness came to be.

I see myself in Kore and I hear myself in all of the songs that he has kept to himself.

There have been countless times when Kore and I basked under the pale light of the moon as we whispered to each other words of comfort that were recited like a sinner’s penance. There have been multiple twilights witnessed as we reclined on each other’s backs, carefully listening to each inhale and exhale; focusing on the now, the fact that we were alive.

I almost walked away from Kore tonight.

I heard his song was responded to by another of his kind. The sound was faint, almost non-existent, but it was there and it summoned him. A sense of possessiveness rushed through every fibre of my being, urging me to imprison him and stake my claim. But then he looked at me with eyes that spoke of longing, and my resolve waned like the coast during a storm. 

Slowly, I withdrew the hands that have grown used to pulling him close every night, when the voices of the sirens got too loud. I increased the proximity between us so that he may have the freedom to wander a little bit more, even if the distance seemed conservative.

I convinced myself that it was for him. It was what he wanted; and I am but just a reflection of him who needed the same things too. 

But as my feet felt little grains of sand in exchange of liquid buoyancy, the moon flew closer to bring the tides in. Calm but powerful waves forced me back to the middle of the sea, the wind whispering to my ear “stay just for a bit more.”