She is Here (Be with Her)

[SirClock]

They  say that she was born at some point, but I have yet to ever  meet  her.  They say she moves from place to place, lost, looking for   something.  They think its out there. They think that its underneath  some  rock, or  locked in some room, kept secret, kept hidden. They tell  her  to keep  looking, stay busy, don't give in, don't take a break, be   productive,  you are going to find it someday.
 
 Someday.
 
 Someday   like a fifty foot stone wall that is stared at for every  moment, never   moving, covering everything there is to see. So long  been there. She's   forgotten how to turn around. She's afraid of whats  behind her.
 
 She   is not in that stone wall. Not even the name she etched there  can   describe her. That name is cold and dead, it holds nothing. And  nothing   holds that name. She is not even there. She never was out  there. What  is  she looking for?
 
 Turn around.
 
 Turn  around  like you've never lived a day, never had a past, never  had a  future,  never was given a name. Stop doing what your told. Stop  being  what your  told. Stop looking, give in, take a break, you aren't  going  to find it  someday.
 
 Someday.
 
 Someday like a  story with a  beginning and an end so utterly  ficticious you couldn't  help but  believe it were true, because once  you decided there had to be  something  terribly wrong, some treacherous  flaw in this, and you  wanted something  different.
 
 Something different.
 
 As  if you  could send me away or hide me in a treasure chest to  surprise  yourself  later. As if you could split me into a billion  little pieces  and put me  back together again, to see what I'm made of.
 
 Forget about me.
 Forget about whatever you think you're looking for.
 Forget about whatever you think you are.
 
 Be still, and you will see what is already here...
 
 Breathing...   As she kisses the nose of her papa... As the wind dies  so the boat   stops swaying... They hold hands, their fingers touch...  The clouds   reflect in the windows... The bird sleeps in a nest...  Children laugh at   a bus stop... Wedding bells in a church... Lilypads  bobbing in  water...  An old man dieing in his favorite chair... A crow  picks at a  carcass by  the road... rays of sun from behind a tree which  creaks and  the air  smells of pine...
 
 The sound of the Ocean...
 
 I am that Ocean. She is that Ocean.
 I do not know her... But I feel her... She is Who I Am... We are unborn together... We are eternally the same
 
 Together we are looking at a man sitting on a mountain, wearing the sign he wrote reading 'This is Me'.