Writing About the Ocean
Why have I arrived on this shore? Why is the sand so rough? Why have the waves begun their decent into the paths of evil? My questions will forever remain unanswered, as do the depths of this mysterious sea. It is a place of romance yet the waves still hum demise. My soul is lost and runs like the unstoppable tides. Life is ultimately like the raving circles of tides. It begins and ends, but always seems to begin again. Could this mean the cycles of life begins again, but in another place and time? As I look to the millions of grains of sand and the relentless waves, it answers all of my questions. Life is short like tides, but is outlasted by its eternal journey of balance. Walking along this shore, while the foam touches my toes, I realize gone may be permanent, but it is only a continuum of a past journey. If there is an almighty power, it shall reunite two destined souls in this continuous journey.
Each tear I shed falls into the morning of the sea. It falls but never stops the waves from crashing. The blackness of the sand grows darker with each soul it embraces. It encounters every known sorrow that can be shed. The waves crash with anger, pain, and dread. The damp air hits my cheeks like spays of blood in every direction. My soul vanishes into the sand to relieve some of the pain, but it only shatters into millions of more pieces. It is impossible to accept the fait which this mysterious life holds. Acceptance only engages more evil power to the depths of the unknown. It escapes the body and reveals itself in another form; into the stress of the hollow sea. In capacity the sea is full, nut it is as hollow as a broken heart. Once each soul is released into its energy, it will no longer survive.
The bubbles flow from my nose on to the surface of the calm sea. My anger flows to the bottom to evaporate. I can see the twinkle of the moon and the darkness of the night. I depict the end as drifting onto the shore. This anger which carried me to magical sea evolved form the passion of its eagerness. Its mystery addicts the sick and attacks the desperate. I can slowly feel the speck of saltwater fill my lungs; the sand emerging in the strands of my hair; the anger melting away despairing dread. The innocence of the calm sea is eroding away at my soul. The light I see is no longer of the moon – it is now the light of my demise. Rather darkness of shadows; illusions of time. Is it too late to undo the done? My weakness overpowers my willingness. Slow motion of actions floats though my mind. It’s as if the power of the sea has stopped motion. I gently close my eyes. After an eternity, all I can feel is emptiness. My soul remains at the depths of the sea. It waits for a chance to regain strength as a wave on the shore.
Close you eyes and touch my face. What can you feel? This is what joy feels like. It’s like the vibration the rocks feel each time a wave caresses its strength. My joy is smooth like the waves feel on the bottom of my feet. The sun is heating my soul with brightness. Every grain of sand that melts into my skin is gently rugged. It sticks to me and only the moisture from the strong waves can release them. I’m bursting with passion which has never immersed every hair in my body before. It tingles, just like a gentle touch on the neck. The trust in my soul is like the calmness which posses the sea. Everything in the path of my vision is brighter. The sky isn’t simply blue; it’s turquoise with sprays of crÃ?¨me floating by. It no longer rains, only pureness falls from the sky. The waves are calm, not even making a splash when they roll over the rocks. Bliss is all that evolves from the delicate revolving sea. It almost speaks out language – telling us that this feeling is natural. To abide by its rules but break them if needed. Possess its glory and always remain neutral.
