Fans of Discovery Channel's Deadliest Catch
Water. This water, ever changing but in composition, the same: water, salt, plankton, zoo plankton, minerals and tiny fragments of man-made junk. But mostly -thankfully, just water with a good dash of salt. It sluices across the deck, smashing into right angled objects, in a hurry to find its way free again. It cannot rest, not here. This is no place to stay for something as beautiful as that, no. But it’s quick and continual washing miraculously turns the stench of fishing boat to cologne with its clean tang.
Spray. It doesn’t exist but for a moment and then it is either too small to be seen but still it can be felt on the finest hairs on your face or it becomes once again water, settling down from the weight of its own grace. The sound, between a large snake and birds wings in dry reeds. In man made things, the sound is most found in failure. Spray: like crystals in motion, impossible to save -except in the mind’s eye as a sensation.
Wave. Undulate, roll, smash, fluid, inescapable, heavy, dynamic, roar. To have seen one wave is not to have seen them all. Yet from the tiniest ripples to towering mountains, they are of one thing- motion. These waves, with the same salinity as my own blood, full of tiny creatures that look like organelles, pull me over, up, down, and through till I know there is no me, there is no you. It is just we, us. And we are as undefinable and as mutable as waves.
Ocean. Close your eyes. Listen, feel, and breath. You have the ocean in your blood. Lick your lips freely. Wade into it- it stings. You’ve been away too long. I know, you whisper and spread your fingers, accepting. But the ocean so large it pulls land based mammalian warmth away so easily. Build a strong boat, catch fish so you can eat the sea. Be the sea. And there you will be forever imprisoned, just a few feet away with just the illusion of being one with the unending ocean. No wonder many drowning sailors smile.
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