Lighthouse

We engage in this gentle tugging, of wandering the labyrinth where the sea washes through the rooms of our memories, and we search for one another in the dark.

I wonder, knowing what I do now, if I would still have done it, stretched a hand out into the blackness to try and pull yours back into the light.

Because I found myself submerged beneath the waters of your sorrow, and I tried; I have tried so hard to keep the sea from sweeping over us both.

Because I found that my feet were not set upon the fastness of stone, but upon shifting sands that pull me under.

Yet even so I think if I could go back, I would plunge into the chasm still, faster perhaps than I did before.

I would tear the heavens apart and surrender myself to the waves to give you one moment’s peace, one night of dreamless sleep, one instance of true happiness.