She is the sea— both majestic and dangerous; a mystery waiting to be unfolded: How her tides shift, how she takes cue from the wind, and how she kisses the rocks like nothing will ever hurt her.
She is the sea— calm and unguarded, tranquil but sad.
I remember floating from years ago. Like drifting into a void, I am oblivious of the world: no worries and hesitations, just water embracing my cold skin. I feel safe. But without sight of land, I am consumed. Held captive. So now, I choose to stay by the sand where it is safe.
She is the sea— vast and unexplored, deep and infinite. Naked. You judge her by her clarity: countless drops of still, translucent water. But with its currents constantly changing, you know nothing.
She is the sea— her waves crashing unto the shoreline, roaring as it lures me in, and pulling away just when my toes get wet. I stare as the lights make her glisten. In its purest form, I see her beauty. And maybe, just this once, It’s okay to drown.