The Means Of Which I Came - Poem by Tyler Comstock
I recently saw the ocean for the first time.
A donated pair of exploding pupils showed me the size of the world.
Turns out it’s relative to the view you’re looking at it from
Stand. awhile. Ankles deep in freezing salty water and gaze.
Gaze into the distance. Forever.
Makes me feel small. Makes me realize I’m small.
Goddamn It’s all so absurd. I’m so absurd
So absurdly small that my problems that once seemed enormous
now re-scaled to germ sized specs on the map of the world’s years. Unable
to un-become an expiring body, these, oh so, numbered breaths let me know
There’ll be a splitting from the sensory, carbon’s anniversary. Only after
this life long walk to the same exact same spot. of which I’ve made no notable progress.
But I’ve been humbled, tamed.
Managed to meander my way to a meek understanding.
That regardless of me, regardless of that eight year old boy
that first became aware of his conscious mind.
Regardless of my existence or it’s cessation.
Others too, will exist only to exit. Regardless, life will continue
An ever sweet breeze will always funnel through the most dense of pines
in sync with the sun, in that small town that was my world.
The notion of the sea’s tide will always create an infinite supply of absolute blue waves that will permanently wipe my temporary footprints from the ancient sands
of the shore it took me twenty years to encounter.
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