swans

after everything, after all that had been said and not said and all that had been done, after all the things that hadn't seen the light of day, i knelt down on the shoreline of my consciousness. there was still some grace left in my movements but the tiredness was visible now; i could have not stood even if i had tried to.

in front of me opened a sea, nameless and faceless and odourless, so vast and deep i didn't have the comprehension for it. the horizon was further than my eyes could see or mind understand; this sea was not me, not mine like the sand hugging my knees and shin bones and toes was. not for me to venture on; this shoreline was where i ended.

i stretched out my arms and one by one let the memories go. paper birds, origami swans of different size and colour; all the nooks and crannies, each and every fold held a memory and told a story. every surface, be it wrinkled or smooth, was something that up until this point had made me me. there were the strobe lights of a night club and first rays of sun on a cold winter morning. the laughter of my loved one, loud and clear, and the smell of her cigarettes in my hair.

there were a lot of them, i saw that now as they silently drifted away from me; more than i had realised. some of them were black and burnt and it hurt me to look at them; some were bright and beautiful and so lightly carried away by the invisible current that they barely touched the still surface of the sea. one by one i put them down and released my hold, and they disappeared into the horizon i could not fathom; dissolved into the infinity that opened beyond and outside of me.

i was not sad; i did not cry. i had no reason to any more.