Nothing to Nature

Can you see the tides coming in as clearly as I can?
We've both been swimming out a long time now,
but now we have to float a moment,
taper our efforts,
and enjoy a deserved rest in the midday sun.
Then we'll quickly dart with the current,
letting it nudge us deftly back to shore,
embracing whatever we find when we get there.

I have resisted everything for so long.
I've resisted change; resisted remaining the same.
I've fought hard against fate, to no avail.
These waters will not bend to my command,
and your reluctance means nothing to nature.
Your anchor is weightless to her.

She will crush your wishes and make her plans known,
not maliciously—just inevitably.
She speaks only what you least long to hear,
bluntly giving you precisely what you need
to change, to grow, to continue one more day.
She is fate, bubbling through the crests,
building to ice-cold sea splashes
that cleanse the beaches and your mind
of needless debris.

It seems counterintuitive to swim back now. I know.
But when we set out on this watery trek,
we promised to stay true to the vision we held.
We swore on all that mattered to our naked souls
that we would never stray from that cherished image.
If reaching it means learning the backstroke
and a new way of being, then let's try.

We cannot know better than the creative forces
that shape us and pull us through time.
We can't second guess the winds or the storm fronts
that sweep through like divine brooms,
weeding out the dying parts
and breathing life
into the tiny new pieces.

The ecstasy is in the acceptance of change:
the yielding to it; the bending through it.
Our strength is found in our flexibility,
and wisdom is blended between age and youth.
Let's mermaid our way back through those waves
and find what we overlooked when we began.