Violently

The innocuous voices of birds penetrate this space. Sitting on my familiar chair, wheels so comfortable with my weight they seem to roll as almost an extension of my mind. I hug my knees, I release them, I fidget with the loose papers scattered across my closet desk. I ignore the mirror and my face therein.

Contemplation surges, the waves of an uneasy sea rising upon one another. White caps swallow white caps and threaten the rare buoy. The ocean is not aware of itself, except maybe passively. The edges all touch sand or rock or the toes of passionate lovers, and this the ocean knows. But the lovers stand, they walk away, and the ocean forgets. In the vast waters good and bad lose their meaning. There is only sea.

The innocuous voices of birds remind me of my small form. How can the entire sea fit inside my heart? Violently.