sat by the ocean

marks

there's many marks that tell me
how things will go and how they will stay
when it comes to people

sometimes,
the marks are cold and filled with rot and all that is unholy
sometimes,
the marks are warm and nice and like a candle's gentle flame
sometimes,
they are short and small, just friends in passing

but these ones

these ones

your marks span eons,
span thousands of years
through the primal grit of past lives
through tooth and bone and flesh and fur

your marks span lifetimes,
they span years and they span days and they span lives
through thick and thin and the known
through holiness and falling and faerie circles and crowns and the unknown

your marks span eons,
thousands of years,
through past lives
and past loves
and past touches

and they spread out into the future,
thick and full in their dotting
not exactly scattered, but not entirely formatted, either

you feel like growth and green and all that is lush
you feel like something that red thread stuck in my chest by Fate is pulling me towards
you feel like something I can't fathom losing to foolish pride

you feel like someone I am willing to sacrifice pride and ego for
you feel like someone I could spill the horrors and blessings of my past to
you feel like someone I could hold onto if my world fell apart again
you feel like someone I will have forever

and yet I fear that with one wrong step things will go awry
because they so easily have in the past with others
others whose marks I thought I counted right
others whom I trusted fully and completely
I am not so naïve now,
even if I try to approach the world with childlike wonder.

I will stare open-mouthed at the lush green cliffs,
with vines and moss trailing down the rocks until they hit clear blue water
and I will gasp at the stars and wonder how not alone we are
and I will smile when I see people in public being their loud and shameless, quiet and uneasy, in the middle and movement-filled, complex selves

I will behold all these wonders,
all this beauty that speaks to my soul and makes it sing
I will feel all these gloriously strong and unstoppable and raw and messy feelings,
all these emotions and thoughts will no doubt belong to me at some point in this life
I will get hurt time and time again,
crying or keeping a straight face or pretending it's all fine when I'm on the verge of breaking again
I will have the fullest of human experiences,
be pulled in by the mundane

but I do not wish to stay there and only there forever

I have the mundane wrapped around my finger
I know its ins and outs and what it can and cannot bring me

I know the mundane, I am comfortable in it.

you,
however,
bring out the wilderness still living inside me
I wish to one day let it overtake me.
I don't want to care if my feet are sore,
I don't want to care if people are around and are watching and judging,
I don't want to feel insecure or insignificant,
I don't want to ever feel less than or strange in the bad way,
and the wilderness in me promises relentlessly that I will be better for it if I let it in.