Stranded
between
I can see two islands in the distance, and
the night is closing in ever so gradually. To my feet, I can feel the icy water
slowly submerging my raft in what seems to be an inescapable void where I am
condemned to perish. Salt water is sprayed into my eyes making it difficult to
see clearly, when it is at this moment that I value vision the most. Vicious
winds start to sway me back and forth but I calm my mind and it eases slightly,
enough to allow me stability once again.
Storm clouds hover above me, ready to throw
their bolts once the moon arrives, yet I am still floating in this vast space
between two exits. Too afraid to move, and too afraid to choose, for I am the
product of both and cannot survive without the other. Which island should I
swim to? I look around in helpless thought, only to find countless pairs of
seagull eyes honing in on my next move as if it were a game of chess. Their
eyes gleaming yellow, ready to squawk at the wrong choice for the sharks to
hear and the dolphins to sneer at my daft error.
With my bones and
flesh belonging to one but my mind and values owing the other, I feel a wave of
confusion about to crash down on my existence, anchoring my body to the dark
depths of the seabed. Hissing whispers from the sea swerve right to left in
attempt to drown out my consciousness, forcing me to wail for aid yet the sky
turns a blind eye and renders me absurd.
Stranded in the middle,
I begin to see no end, as the waves are continuous and everlasting. In thought,
to stay at sea seems like an awfully good idea, for acceptance from either
comes so very dear.
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