Maris Pacifici
an ode to my ocean
Warm desert gusts wash over cold pacific slipstream; movement mirrored by wind and water. Currents cross, mingle, tangle weeds pulled from distant seas. Sun settles, unreeling legs of light on unbroken canvas, holding color like a lover in Earth’s pooled palette. Gleams ride the rise and swell of mountains peaked in frothy points, that pitch into curves, slides and sinks— cradled and swayed in half seconds of stillness on rippled valley floors. Bolts of sea spray strike and shatter, like dreams forgotten in the crash and churn of a wake. Roaring, ever rushing forward, eager arrivals spend themselves, withering until away again. Receding silent as silhouetted sail, unbound and full, adrift. Cracked mouth pulses in eternal prayer. Liquid lips fire salt and sand. Wide and open, edgeless mass of motion. Receptacle of light. Mother of life. Temple of time. Maris Pacifici


love this.
so much of this i like but especially
"Bolts of sea spray
strike
and shatter,
like dreams forgotten
in the crash
and churn
of a wake."