Albatross

The warm water crashes upon my toes, and I can feel momentarily. The sand is soft and quiet and lay down in it. The water tightens around me, curling and twisting, like a matted quilt placed on top of me in a matter of disdain. I shiver into the sand, my tears displacing it's geniality. It darkens, and through the haze of foreboding and aeonian desolation I feel parallels. And I hate myself for tainting it's sanctity. 

For even the sky has becomes tainted. Caesious and glum, even the clouds have had the better judgement to abandon the wretched. Only the single albatross flies, tearing holes in the sky so that cold dead light of an abandoned sun shines clinically. It flies overhead, like a vulture and it's destitute. I fear it's after me. 

I stumble, but stand. My sweater, a ripped tan cardigan like netting on the Pequod, slinks off my shoulders. It provides no warmth, only a sting of social grace. I look out over the ocean and feel it's power and momentum. It sings the dulcet song of opportunity and I shakily clamber over towards it. The albatross starts to call out to me, and I scream for it to go away, to leave me peace and serenity for all that I have loss. It swoops closer and I edge further into the sea. By now, my ankles are totally submerged and I feel as though I am floating. It feels good, to lose myself. Little do I know I'm already lost. 

A light rains starts to come down and my skin shines mystiquely and nacreously. It shies away from my body and I feel totally dissolved from the world around me. It's just the ocean, the albatross and myself; my soul. I'm up to my knees in salty tears and I stick my hand in and out of the water. It's a mystery; how something so insignificant and translucent could come together in a mass of vigor and domination. How it could destroy and level; how it could beautifully lap against idyllic coast and turn a phrase in a poet's mind like a gunshot in that of a boy. The albatross screams out, it swoops in and out, never touching the sea but always getting so damn close. I scream as well- it scares myself and the bird. It's a loud caterwaul that shatters the air. It takes every fiber and soulful flake I have left to leave my mark upon the air. After the sound echoes across the beach, I fall into the ocean, drained. The albatross flies away for good, and I smile. The ocean is now cold but soft and lovely. I sink into it's mystery and welcome that of the silence that follows. I feel it surround me and I'm floating once more, in a heaven like, hellish galaxy of tears and desperation, free of everything that haunts me. 

No more albatrosses to follow me home.