Eyes closed, lungs emptied, hearing my own breath fill the void within.
Each inhalation takes me to a place of perfect peace,
as a briney balm coats this weary pedestrian’s limbs
and the mighty force of the moon has its way.
Without anxiety I listen for approaching waves and
alter my position to go under the break or marry the flow.
Sometimes my intentions are successful, sometimes not.
Mine is a constant longing for that altered state of reality,
where silence wraps me in sun kissed warmth
and mighty arms cradle my physical and emotional weight.
At times I must fight for it,
needing to plant myself firmly in shifting sand
to withstand a egotistical tide.
That glassy oasis between breaks is my destination,
the melding place, where the ocean and I become one.
The warrioress inside me knows that while the cost of journey may be steep,
the spoils of the battle are worth the endeavor.
Violent rip tides and undertows remind me of
the ocean’s indefatigable strength as
I’m tumbled like a shell,
one body part after another kissing the sand floor,
the oceanic dermabrasion only inciting my determination to persevere.
Before the count reaches 10 I rise, laughing at my own ego.
Taking stock of my position, and without hesitation,
I offer myself to my lover again.