I have an ache in my heart as I look at the ocean.
The setting sun seems to be almost soaking in it,
while the sea of a quarter and a half life’s crisis
stares at me out of a floating sea shell.
The liquid sand sucks at my feet
wanting to swallow me, but still debating.
Waves rush at me as I walk out,
knocking me down with a slap, and, submerging me completely.
The sudden rush and thrill, and, I come up gasping,
tasting salt that burns my lips,
knowing that there’s nothing beneath my feet.
I try to find my balance as another wave approaches.
Before I know it, it has swept me up in a towering lion’s roar,
and, yanked me out far from the shore.
Even though I can swim, a sudden fear of bottomless depths strangles my voice,
and, I thrash my arms around to clutch at a passing straw.
Just when I think that I can’t float anymore,
my feet brush against something soft.
I recoil in fear wondering if it’s a seaweed or a jelly.
But a sandbar greets me, and I throw myself at it climbing over with relief
like a castaway left to die in an unknown, and, beautiful tropical island.
The waves subside down to my waist, and, I rise like an ancient sea-goddess
surveying land, and revealing myself to a shipful of superstitious sailors.
I turn to seek out shore only to realize that the tide has flung me far and,
I am several hundreds of yards away from where I began.
The patch of water between the beach, and the sandbar seems tame and mundane.
My heart calms, and I wonder why I was afraid.
I turn to look at the horizon that does not seem far now.
Realizing that there are no straight lines in the sea,
I set sail again.
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