D4 :: Trinidad Iscariot [CB // fin.]

i've been looking for the conqueror
but you don't seem to come my way

There are worlds small enough to be held. Some lives begin and end in the puddles along the shoreline, creatures brought in by the ocean and abandoned for the day, who are remembered and carried back out to sea come nightfall. I can kneel down and scoop a tide pool up within my hands, as tiny and weak as they are. They don't know me. They don't know who holds them. Even if I clutch a starfish to my chest and it clings to the rhythm of my heart, it will not know my name. I whisper Trinidad and it is a language so strange that they cannot differentiate it from the wild and endless noise of the entire planet living loudly all at once.

I wonder who holds me. What picks me up without my ever knowing, whispering words in a voice too large to be heard? I believe in something. I believe in things too big to be known. I believe I am small. It is not my hands that give me faith, dwarfed within the wide spread of my brother's fingers when he comforts me during storms. I'm tall enough to feel as if I have presence, although my limbs appear so thin as to worry my parents that I'll be whisked away by wind or waves. My bones have more weight than paper. I do not believe in The Beyond because I lack faith in myself. I believe because I like all of the things I have yet to discover, promises of adventure and new curiosity.

Staring up at the sky with my eyes full of clouds, I wonder what great and unseeable world holds me to its heart. My ocean is a puddle in the hands of the sun, sipped into the mouths of stars come dark.