Not to know

The sea keeps changing.

Its feelings for me are never still. So silent but forcefully pushing me to doubt anything I touch.

Even though it’s sea, and my skin wears it like a summer dress, my mind sees it as perilous mist. It’s bothered, it’s troubled, it struggles. It tries to reconcile knowing and the hypnotic allure to avoid knowing that arises from the sea.

The sea, it does call me to avoid.

The sea, it does send me waves.

And the waves carry me, less ferociously the more that I’m willing to let go.

The more that I’m willing not to know.