The Ocean: prose

This is the edge,

beyond lies the great unknown and the deep reserve of hidden fears and life that we will never know or see.

It surges and flows within and is by its nature compliant to the shape of the vessel it inhabits.

This does not mean it is weak by any means.

Instead it tricks us into wanting to see, to touch and to feel what it might be like to be immersed.

This can be realised. For a moment or two.

Then when we feel comfortable, something brushes against our leg or we are suddenly moved away from the shore abruptly.

Panic descends and we madly struggle back to safety breathing deeply of the precious air we require.

It bridges worlds and countries.

It separates us from our deepest selves.

It reflects the light and color that falls upon it.

It is ourselves, free from the bounds of the small human experience.

One day surely we will return back to the ocean.

I hope I recognize you there and that we can still relate as we do now.

But that is not in my control.

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