give and take

[hananapeel]

sometimes i think the ocean is like loss. i stand in sinking sand and watch nimble-fingered tide reach for seaweed and empty bottles, pulling them under dark opaque waves back to undiscovered depths, and cannot help feel that so can it wash away pointless frustration and aching disappointment that cover me in a layer of heavy grime. a rush of cathartic cleanse. again, again, until all that is left is something like serenity or despair. but if the ocean is subtraction, then the mountains are addition, for standing at the peak makes something swell heavy and full within your chest until you're choking on this joy or pride or perhaps fear; when you look down at the path you've climbed up on with your own firm feet and think, maybe i will fall from this place and crush my skull on the rocks below, though your heart beats on strong and steady still, and you feel it deep within your sturdy bones that you won't. if the ocean is washing away the dirt and grit on your skin then the mountains is slathering colorful paint on it, layer upon heady layer until you're dripping with swirled vibrancy and oil-slick energy, bursting at the seams with overfilled birthday balloon buoyancy, the past and future forgotten in a swollen rush like that of a mountain spring.