Oceano
M A R
Can you see her? Ebbing and fading between licks of foam and confessions, secrets roaring before us before retreating into her own plethoric existence. Like a tournament of fencing, it dances around our feet, striking and retreating, dazzling our awed gaze. She is a mystery. Shrouded by surges of rage and ripples of serenity, she is unstable. A spectacle before our gaze, we limit our sight to the margin called horizon. We see nothing but blue and blue, sky and mirror, stretching out to the unreachable.
She is tainted. Weaved together with confessions, she is unobtainable and uncontainable. Calm and alive at the edge of our world; kissing it one day, snarling the other. We stand there, vexed with its beauty, wondering if it’s the color, the sound, the smell. The salt on our lips, the song on our matted hair, the tenderness on our feet.
But we still don’t see her.
For she is not a mass that can be measured, a lump that can be contained, or a thing to appreciate. No. She is much more than color and songs and kisses. She is time, she is hope, she is discovery. She is undefined and misunderstood. Unruly and forgiving; she is queen of land and interpreter of skies. She is a witness and a survivor, merged with humanity more than we will ever be. A lethargic goddess overseeing human error and rights, aiding and sabotaging attempts and dreams. She is a spectacle of history and secrets; hidden in waves and foam. Only able to be felt and admired.
But I can see her all too clear.
She is tainted. Weaved together with confessions, she is unobtainable and uncontainable. Calm and alive at the edge of our world; kissing it one day, snarling the other. We stand there, vexed with its beauty, wondering if it’s the color, the sound, the smell. The salt on our lips, the song on our matted hair, the tenderness on our feet.
But we still don’t see her.
For she is not a mass that can be measured, a lump that can be contained, or a thing to appreciate. No. She is much more than color and songs and kisses. She is time, she is hope, she is discovery. She is undefined and misunderstood. Unruly and forgiving; she is queen of land and interpreter of skies. She is a witness and a survivor, merged with humanity more than we will ever be. A lethargic goddess overseeing human error and rights, aiding and sabotaging attempts and dreams. She is a spectacle of history and secrets; hidden in waves and foam. Only able to be felt and admired.
But I can see her all too clear.