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Day after day
The ocean speaks to me…
“You are small”.
I am. And glad of it.
In the relativity of my mind
I am thus, infinite.
I live in between two passionate forces.
Confronted by ocean to the east
ambushed by wilderness and desert to the west.
Where I live
mornings are doing times and as the winds bully the oceans
afternoons are the thinking, sheltered times.
A pattern of my life, of
Fishing, swimming, diving, hunting and beachcombing,
followed by the necessity of moving to shelter, to wonder and read and dream.
In water I experience a wonderful truant feeling.
It caresses my skin like a frisson of lust.
When the sea wind brawls and bashes his way from the south;
When the swell has hidden the horizon,
Our southern headland becomes the hero of the place.
We all say excitedly, “The point is working!”
The ocean is the supreme metaphor for change, to me.
Whales. cramps; caught in the rip, dumped until you know you are dying.