Upon Opening The Door

The ocean was an open door.
I sat on it’s carpet
ten steps from the tide line.
The breeze moved my hair like it moved the waves
crested with white foam and crashing

at my bare feet.
The ocean invited.

My fingers dug into the gray sand
feeling for the warmth of the sun
long disappeared beneath the waves.
The ocean was black ink
melding with a sky of onyx,
both romancing the stars
competing for which would reflect them more masterfully.
The sky was distant
but the ocean,

The ocean I could touch.

Like a magnet
it drew me in.
The warmth of the water surprised me
as my body hit it
the speed with which I ran dissapating
in the force of the oncoming waves.

I leapt to clear a mountain of water
and
pointing my arms over my head
dove beneath the surface.

I became a part of the black, completely immersed.
I felt the water pressing on my skin
and I wished I could breathe beneath it,
know what it would feel like to inhale without choking,
exhale without fainting.
I stayed under, tossed aside by a wrestling wave.
My human lungs,
flawed in this world,
this under-water world,
screamed for air, and as if I had no control
my head broke the surface
my mouth opened and gulped in air.

I opened my eyes.

I was among stars.
The land faded as I drifted further out
and all that existed was the sky and the sea
and the stars above and beneath.
I imagined myself one of them,
just a tiny white speck on the surface of the sea.

It confirmed my existence.

The ocean was an open door.
I opened the door and entered the existence
that alternates between heaven and earth
and confuses the two.
The existence that strips away everything
besides the skin
so that all is left is the naked human.
This is existence is forgotten as soon as it is exited
because it is not seen
or recalled
or encrypted
upon the memory.

It is only felt by the skin and bones that enter it.