Blue like the Aegean


, ,

It was the purest thing that
ever belonged to me
that even now there feels
to be no sin in remembering it.
A touch born out of ether,
the desire to align
almost elysian: you sought
a world of perfection,
of perfect beauty through
mathematics and armed rebellion;
you are like Thor over Bifröst.
That purity, oceanlike.
Somebody should tell the moth
there might be something
more worth its time
than the flame,
that one could be mesmerized
without fearing for her life,
that we could be old
and still be talking
about elliptic curves
and the ouster of fascists
and never have come close
to burning
but transcending
like a straight-shot arrow
skin to soul to dream to
the effervescent universe
and the flesh is nothing
but a philosophical construct
when the pleasure
is in discovering
not how deep you can go
but how deep you are,
there is no drowning
only getting lost, but the kind
of lost you’d love to be,
in a place where every
third left turn leads
to the sea

Image from “Greece Travel Guide:
The Secrets of Mykonos and Santorini”
from the blog Not Jess Fashion by Jessica Wang

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