I am an enigma to myself;
A mystery of flesh compounded into life for all to see.
The thoughts and beliefs are odd as they are mine,
Yet thought up beyond any control.
The structure I exist as is just a symbiotic collection of natural data and biological evolution,
That of which I hardly do understand;
Let alone comprehend its potential.
Yet, she knows.
She knows it.
She knows it better than I know myself.
The rhythms, thoughts and actions of my own.
Those that are of the man that exists by her side.
Within this existence stems the heart of which is now hers,
The heart which now sees better days.
I still see the existence as an enigma with each exhale,
Though the passion for her is the definition of love.
This symbiotic compound believes this,
And no evolution could dilute that feeling.
Hopelessly raw and passionately incendiary,
She knows it.
She knows it all too well.
“Perhaps we are in this world to search for love, find it and lose it, again and again. With each love, we are born anew, and with each love that ends we collect a new wound. I am covered with proud scars.”—Isabel Allende
The night is long. And I feel like my attributes resemble those of drift wood.
I contain no thought, no weight and no sense of direction; just heading along with the swell towards a destination unknown. This is usually the case with staying awake for 24 hours, what you believed you felt changes. I believed I felt human at some point, but that changed slowly with each waking minute that slips by. The reasons why the lack of slumber is purely that of the daily grind, staying awake doing the duties for those who are asleep right now, the consumer, the worker bees.
Drift wood. I float through the hours, doing my duties, yet unapologetically mentally numb. I’m submerged amongst my work, and surrendering to the tides.
Eventually, the tides turn, and my time is up. I leave my work and head home. The morning is cold and bitter, a very strange characteristic for an Australian December. The clouds hang overhead in a very dense formation of pre erupted storms and dismal rain, and the wind pushing through is just as assaulting, chilling me easily. I just want to be home.
The drive was quick, but not quick enough I felt. Tired, cold and drifting along in sub-consciousness. I return home, where comfort slowly snaps me awake. The atrophy leaves slowly with it, and the feeling of being drift wood slips away.
I slip into bed where she is asleep. The covers instantly furnish my feelings of comfort, and I return to being human. I then slip closer to her and connect with her body. Her skin is comfortably warm and her heat passes into me and destroys the cold from the elements outside. I kiss her whilst she sleeps, and then bury my head in the pillows.
I fall asleep embracing her.
She became my security blanket, and my normality after being drift wood. She was the reality check.
The embrace was warm and tight. She assaulted my arms the very instant I exited my car, and locked it. The embrace was perfect. Tighter than usual. I could sense how much she missed me, in the grip her arms contorted around my torso, slowly etching out the breath from within my rib cage, which I didn’t mind at all. I kissed her forehead, whilst I too held her in return. She nestled into me easily and exhaled in comfort.
We held one another for what felt more than an extended moment, for the length of a lifetime in the span of an hour. The attributes of time were dispelled and forgotten, just for that one moment. Maybe time stood still? It surely felt like it did. The cold weather displayed unconditionally, careening winds that slice through us like cold needles sending shivers. This only tightens our embrace, sharing the warmth of our bodies and hearts. We lock. We kiss.
There are only 24 hours in this day, and the best hours of the day are spent with her in my arms, embracing.