Letting Go


Where sweat met air,
And water met rock,
The figure met his freedom.
Found what he was looking for

On a cliff overhanging
The Blue Mountains,
That on this night
Became the sea.

On this night—like many other nights,
Sunlight rushed toward the moon,
And from the moon, struck the Earth,
And from the Earth perhaps struck life on a far-distant planet.
A planet well beyond the awareness
Of the figure on the cliff.

On this night, moonlight bled truth
Onto the crashing waves.
Water sprayed violently against the cliff, rising like dust
Into the chilled mist.
A light rain fell through the cold night sky.

Feet overhanging the edge of the cliff,
Blue Mountain waves raging beneath, the figure sat with ease.
First in periods of silence, then in periods of laughter.
Laughter causing a heat deep inside him that felt almost perverse;
Containing such childlike excitement,
It became clear—
Death was present.

The release of energy in the night’s laughter
No words will ever claim.

Only the twinkling of the chilled mist
Rising from the rocks beneath
Allowed for this kind of metamorphosis.

After exhausting himself from his laughter,
The figure rested his eyes, and pressed his hands together, as if to pray.
But instead of praying, he screamed.
Letting go of the pain that he knew was inside of him.
Internal screaming,
Expressed only by the wind,
And the crashing waves of the mountainous sea
Rhythmically beating and pounding under his feet.

On this night, although he was by himself,
He also knew he wasn’t alone,
As the mountains swayed below,
And the long-traveled moonlight
Coated the misty air
Under his long-traveled feet.

Cocooned in the mist, the figure began melting away,
Becoming water and mist and moonlight and rock.
And as parts of him flaked and peeled, he laughed.

Laughter that continued to echo
Long after his lips and teeth and tongue diffused into the breeze.
It quickly became impossible for the figure to differentiate his body
From the misty air.

The misty air that was illuminated by the rushing sunlight,
As it struck the moon before striking the sea,
Where the figure once was,
But on this night had disappeared.

A new figure emerged on this very dark night.
He was now the water and the breeze and the moon and the sun.
And he was happy, and he was content, and he was renewed in his laughter

On a cliff overhanging
The Blue Mountains,
That on this night
Became the sea.


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