journal-7, vulnerable to the push and pull

spent the turning of the new year with the stars and the sea. neither of which acknowledged this passing of time, these simple seconds. such a small matter to things that seem so eternal. what's a minute, an hour, a year to these well-fed beasts of time.

constellations swirl, a golden shooting star, the ship’s azure glow, fireworks crackling, the beach fire huddled around, a shadow-black shoreline bird, the living city lights, slow rise of the big dipper, midnight celebration, lips kissing the lips of another, shallow soft foaming fizzing tide, gentle waves across skin, free float, the ocean push, the pull, the release, couples embracing, the lamplight, a silence, the lonely parking lot, damp breeze, layered fog, 2 am immaculate sky... these are all strange to me. all distant. some known, some unknown. my hands feel full. my hands remain empty.

if we ever get together, will you come here with me. can I chase you into the waves as one year ends and another one begins. can we make love in the sand up near the dunes while forgetting about time. can we talk about forever as we look into the deep space above. can you imagine us, a binary star, seen as one from so far away. seen from here. right now. 

there are worlds without us. there's an entire galaxy below me in the sand. and within every breath inhaled, exhaled. they don't hold my interest for very long. I'm not smart enough to know the complexities at those levels. I'm barely making sense of it here, where I exist. where I know hurt and joy and loss and sacrifice and intense kissing and disappointing rejection and moments of learning and moments of confusion and what love is and what love is not and the depth of dislike it takes to get to hate and the sorrow felt recognizing ignorance. uncertainties abound in unknown worlds. its hard to believe in an existence somewhere else, anywhere that seems less comfortable than here. I have a strange need for a balance to the unseen equation. equilibrium. its a cruel requirement.

twenty twenty-two. fifty-two. insignificant numbers to the stars and the sea. another wave will come after the one that just crashed. another star will form after one collapses. I don't want to go anywhere. I want to stay. eternal. I want to exist and re-exist with you. I want to love you and love you and love you, without ending. no time limits. no complexities. no uncertainties. a comfort. can you imagine that. wherever you are. whatever you're doing. I am here without you. feet alone in the sand. eyes lost in the sky. I am here in another year now. still vulnerable to the push and pull. still imagining something of us, much greater than this feebleness.

(Cling by Henrik Aarrestad Uldalen on midnightxmasquerade.tumblr.com)