we lose things and moments and people, but the waves keep breaking on the shore, as if nothing ever happened, as if the world doesn’t care, as if it doesn’t notice.
the world keeps turning, the waves keep crashing, the sun keeps rising and setting, the days keep coming and nothing ever stops.
neither should we. we can’t stop. we can’t.
I can’t always be the one carrying the nails and the hammer. I can’t be your carpenter, I can’t be your savior. I can’t be your door-frame, I can’t be your house, I can’t be your brick, your stone, or your soldier. I can’t be.
You are right, I am a lagoon. I am gnarled vines, I am dirt, I am deep-rooted, I am a coal black soul.
But your face prevails, and in your eyes is a portrait of me that perhaps resembles someone I used to be.
