The Ocean


She is constant.
She is unwavering.
She breaks when she crashes, and then carries her pieces back to become whole again.
Always teasing the shore, she lingers for a while and then retracts; caving into herself.
As she goes, she waves, leaving a trail of white.
A clean slate.

How elegant;
The way the tide ebbs and flows.
How violent;
It sucks you in.
Drowns you.

The enchanting experience of The Indian Ocean cannot be met with words.
There's a vast abyss beneath her surface but at face value, she can be so shallow.
She's more than inviting with her warmth; her smooth curves seduce you to lay with her for a while.
If she likes you, she will be kind and offer you buoyancy. If she doesn't, she will woo you with her voice, calm like a siren, and beckon you over for a kiss.
"What's the harm in a kiss?", you may wonder.
Well, she is breathtaking.
And she will certainly take your breath away.

A mother to many species;
she nurtures her kin.
A hospitable host;
she feeds her guests.
That is, when you respect her.

I have often watched men cast their lines, hastily, into her belly and expecting an immediate trophy (this is the human condition). But the Indian Ocean is not conditioned, not as simple as "hook, line and sinker".
I have watched her teach many men a lesson in patience, I have seen her school them in the art of persistence and rain on their parades as they stood over her domineeringly.

Her emotions cannot be manipulated by man for she is betrothed to the moon. Some days he makes her happy. You'll know by the way she gently caresses the shore. On other days, he enrages her; she swells with anger, engulfing the East Coast violently. Her destruction does not discriminate, in this switch of mood she lashes out on anything within her reach. To those things beyond, she rubs salt in the wounds.
Yes, she can be scary at times, relentless even, but she always finds a way to compose herself in the most beautiful manner.
It's just her nature.

She has many friends, and hordes of admirers.
I consider myself to be both.
I remember sitting with her one day, envious at how freely she expresses herself. I told her this, amongst other things. I told her all of my secrets and she washed my mental dishes clean.
She looked beautiful that day; the sun (which she has greeted millions of times) glistened upon her, creating little twinkling diamonds on her surface. She was in a good mood, draping herself lovingly on those that met her body.
I spent most of my years with the taste of her on my tongue, but I never had any inclination to feel her against my skin; not until that day. I didn't know if I wanted to be in her waters, or under it.
I just knew that I wanted to be at Liberty with her.
My friend.
The Ocean.

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