Karma

Believe me when I tell you this. I wish I could burn the boats. I want so badly to empty my hands, and swell my lungs with the breath of this unknown country.

The sea is comfort. It is empty, save for the bodies of those who have come before. The sea is fear, but it is a fear that is known to me.

Ahead of me, the shore sprawls like light beneath the door. The wind sweeps the sand; their whispers curl about my ankles.

The whispers tell me that I will find nothing at sea but an empty horizon. I hear them, and I know that these ghost voices are true, but I am so weary of this battle. I am weary from beating back the waves, riding against a line that will never break.

And so, I will stay with you on this wet and sparkling shore. I will splay my hands and feel the candle flame lap at my palms. I am reaching for a love to cling to, here on the cold and tattered edges of the new world.