It starts with a backdrop. A drop of paint that spreads, wide, colorful, growing in proportions to create color, wind, sun, love, life. Start with the sky. Beginning as a pale blue. Blossoming from the ground up comes arrays of majestic orange, sultry red. It bleeds into the sky, impressing it with its multiple dimensions. Shades not seen the night before. It explodes in the night, expands, compresses. Making a pathway for the sun, which parts the color as Moses once parted the red sea. Then, just as the sea closed upon the Egyptians behind him, the vibrant bursts trail after the sun, and leaving nothing in its wake expect that blue. Calming, neutral, unexcitable.
Listlessly trails of white clouds limp onto the backdrop. They add no excitement except to break up the monotony of blue, reminding us that yes, something is happening up there. The world is not any more at rest than we ourselves are.
Lower, lower traverse your eyes. See the break in blue only to leave you with another shade, darker, reflecting from the sun’s monstrous rays. The ocean, mind you, may be even less tangible than the sky, for you can never lay your eyes on one piece. You can never fully capture it in a picture, as it is the epitome of life. But for this reason it may be the most tangible piece of God one may ever hope to arrest their hopes to.
Crashing waves. Crescending over each other in beautiful rhythm. Ceaselessly beating each other time and time again, never tiring. Only able to tire those who think they can outlast, outsmart an interminable beast such as itself. Smell the salt in the air. The desire that comes along with it. There is a reason people are drawn to this place. Why beautiful poetry, music, art is created about this place. It has an aura of possibility. Here, away from land, reality does not matter. Jump willingly into its temptuous tentacles, let it hold you dear, carass your needs in the way people may not. Lure your lover further, further, so no one will know the sins are you about to commit. The sea will wash it all away, and you will be baptized anew.
Let it all wash over you, let it take you away. Let your pain become air, weight off your shoulders. Let yourself drift along as if you have not a care in the word. Leave them on the shore. And once you give yourself to the sea, it will take care of you. It will mother you, feed you, consume you. And once it is done, once you have ad enough, it will drop your body back onto the shore, but it will always hold something more precious. People will run to you, grab you, breathe their life into you. It’s your choice, take from them what you want. Just remember that you did, at least once, choose to deny their gives. Deny the gifts their lives could offer you.
But ultimately, we both know you will desperately take what is overed to you. You will gag, beg for more. You will love the attention, like a whore loves her mirror. It will fill you, fill what has long since been taken from you. Then you will look, look onto the sea. Just out of your vision, just so blurry that your question yourself, you will see what was taken from you, that you can never get back. But hurry. Hurry! Avert your eyes. For no one can know. It was an accident, remember? A horrible accident. Fear seized you, gripped your limbs, muscles, so you couldn’t move. As much as you wanted to. Remember you wanted to.
Prose