lithedark

Upon my wake, after spitting sand and water, I sat upright and turned my sights to the horizon. Brilliant golden streamers descended gracefully toward her, while she lay quivering beneath. Her complexion was cold and stoic as she refused the wind’s perpetual push; she was a flat plain of murky blue and I could not tear myself away. As the sunlight warmed my back and compelled me on, she stole my strength and forced me back, reeling, onto the sand. Ne’er I had a chance nor choice as she stole my breath away once and again.

Rising to my feet, I cowered as the freezing breeze stung my shins with sand and combed me with dust. I looked upon my ship, torn and broken on the rocks, and cursed she who had wrought my viduity. She, who had widowed me, stirred callously as I kneeled and wept, wetting the broken frame and returning salt to salt. Despite her brutal hand, I stood again and turned my back to her.

She had borne to me to this place of my rebirth; I turned my back to her and left the frozen beach.

This entry was posted on Friday, September 12th, 2008 at 9:16 pm and is filed under life, ocean, prose. You can follow any responses to this entry through the RSS 2.0 feed. You can leave a response, or trackback from your own site.