Let The Wind Decide

Part title

I am standing on the edge. Behind me, vast lands of hunter greens and vibrant violets begin to wake up with the sun's caresses. It is a sight to behold but I do not see it. My eyes are glued to the motion of waves attempting to embrace the cold, hard, unyielding cliff side. Embrace after embrace, rejection after rejection. It's hypnotic rhythm take control of my senses. All that matters is the next wave.
I sense my body lean forward, without consultation. And there I stand, the wind edging me on, urging me to let myself fall into the abyss, only to change it's mind and push me back to relative safety. On this edge, I am nothing, nothing but the play toy of a fickle wind.
My own little tornado shrouds me with air so cold it numbs my body. My hair wraps around my face, I can see nothing past the curtain it makes. What if I fall now, my last moments blinded to the beauty that causes my death? Would I feel angry, robbed of that last look that tempted me to this place? Or would I be happy, fearing that watching the waves with my certain doom would sully them somehow? Should I step forward? Should I step back? Too many questions. I shall let the wind decide.
The wind counters my indecisiveness with its own, it's gale falling to a gust in a matter of seconds. I notice the deafening roar is not the wind as I had assumed but the waves, those ever persistent waves. The longer I watch the waves in motion, I realising it's performing to an indifferent audience, unswayed by its determination. I turn my attention to the cliff and watch it's beating.
I feel as high as the clouds forming on the horizon as I am struck by an epiphany. This is more than a performance, this is more than just a mere cliff and some waves, this is a love story gone wrong.
The sea, free, unpredictable, heartbreaking by nature, and the cliff, solid, unmoving, unforgiving by nature. How they got to this point seems obvious and arbitrary, what matters is now. All the matter is the next wave.
I see the sea, made up of tears, salty and true, but still moving in an unpredictable fashion, landing blows in places she hasn't before. Her attempts to embrace the cliff appear to me more and more desperate. While he stands tough, stiff, knocking her back each time with spray reaching past my face. He doesn't let her see, doesn't think anyone will notice. But I notice. I notice every time I come, the land lost to the sea, the cracks appearing on his face faster than he can fix them.
Tears slowly roll down my face as I watch the perpetual end to a love that began before anyone was around to see. No works spoken, no acknowledgements needed, honest.
My tears frame my face and fall as one into to sea, so full of tears it has no need for my own. I watch as one falls but quickly lose track of it as it is met by thousands of others, casualties of a lovers tiff.
My ice cold hand creeps up to my face, to wipe away the evidence of my leaking eyes, to find them entwined with the salty tears of the sea as well. We are one. I feel her ache inside my chest, throbbing as loudly as the pulse from my own broken heart.
As I feel the pain eclipse all else, I can't help but wonder who has it worse? There she is, an endless cycle of tears, desperate for the love that is so clearly lost. She remains oblivious to the pain surrounding her, ignorant of the pain she's inflicting, unable to move past her own. Is her love truly that great?
She never notices the suffering of her love. But how can I blame her? Neither did I. But at least she still has him. I understand now how she can tolerate rebuff after rebuff. Because for a second, a simple second, he's there and she has him. For a split second she can breathe.
I smile to myself. I am human, I am confronted by death and fall. But the sea? We are not to be compared. Of course she is oblivious, she is life. I guess, in a sense, I am the cliff. Closed off, fighting back life, something as indefeasible as the sea. I refuse to move, to open up, even though doing so hurts me, even though I know it is wearing me away to a shell of myself, and then to nothing at all.
I feel stray droplets splatter on my cheek and raise my eyes as the heavens open. I didn't even see the clouds as the smothered the light above me with their dark and heavy forms. The wind changing its mind again, builds its strength. And together, the wind and rain begin their assault.
But as I watch those tiny pellets of water disturb that cast sea, I envision the rain as a reflection of my own tears. I believe I can see my tears in the body of water almost as if my sorrow has given them an unearthly glow, only seen by me. I sink to my knees on the soaked land, my hands gripping the earth. But a thought stems the flow of tears and steadies my vision. What if I am not the cliff rejecting the sea of life? What if I am the sea, the cliff is life, always at odds and I am trying down to my very essence to embrace it again and again to no avail? The thought lifts me to my feet. I do the same thing time after time and expect a different result. The very definition of insanity. Maybe they're right, maybe I am crazy.
I stand there as I lose all concepts of time, thoughts flying through my head too fast for me to even comprehend them. Am I the cliff or the sea? Either way, they are both out to hurt or destroy the other and call it love. Am I sane or crazy? There is no one out there in any way concerning about the answer. Will I step forward or back? I decide again to let the wind decide.
It is then I notice that I feel the wind, not screaming round and round my head but simply whispering faintly across my bare skin. And the rain has stopped. I look up at the vacant sky to see the moon beaming down on me, taking up most of the empty space. It has dragged dots and winks of stars to keep it company. I admire, as it itself does, it's beautiful reflection on the tranquil sea.
I look about. All is calm. Who am I to threaten such serenity? As I turn and walk away, I can't help but have one last look at the waves that seem to call to me when I'm not there.
"See you tomorrow," I whisper and make my way home.