CLUTTER

will enough ever be enough?

see now, swimming is something i can do.
i float sometimes to rest, i paddle harder sometimes to get ahead.
that's how my life is.
but i never reach the shore.
or at least that's how it feels.
i pass sun kissed beaches and tall palm trees and wild dolphins and i turn green with envy.
greener with every big boat i pass, greener with every dazzling sea turtle i watch go by.
how much more do i need to do
to become a creature of the sea?
to be enough in my own brain?
how much more?
another month of workouts?
another sketchbook of drawings?
another blood sacrifice to the moon?
another consuming of stardust.
feeling good is beyond me.
feeling afloat, feeling carried is not.
but that's all.
real emotion evades me.
if i don't get somewhere soon enough i might just stop swimming.
and just wait until my weight gets too heavy for the salt waters of my mind.
and the crevices between my bones fill with liquid.
and i finally hit the sandy floor.
meet a few crabs on the way down, watch a puffer fish hide from a shark.
even they have a life, a purpose.
mine is elusive, a mystery that can't be solved by reading the illiad.
i should have learned that by now.
i feel that if my back does softly collide with seaweed and rocks,
i will see my purpose.
clear as day.
clear as glass shards in water.
and i'll grope towards the surface, in a final
yet futile attempt at redemption.
and when it is enough
the air in my lungs won't be enough.
and my ears will pop under the pressure of thousands of tons of water.