I believed at one time that life should be as calm and transcendent as the stillest water just before the sun says its goodnight and gently dips its lips to seal the promise of tomorrow. That beautiful peaceful glow, the smooth glass-like appearance. It was the nearest thing to heaven that I could imagine and it filled me with desires and hopes that I, a small town girl, could experience it all, could help those who couldn't, and that my tiny life, would remain in this constant state of peace. I wanted to believe this peaceful kind of love more than anything else and prayed my hopes and desires to magically become truth...to become real. I would achieve this through love, the one thing, in this life, I wanted more than life itself.
That love I speak of, that wave-crashing, all-encompassing love seems to elude me and toy with me almost ritualistically. As if I myself a wave, desperate for the shore, ebb to and fro and as quickly as I reach the shore, the all-mighty ocean yields its power over me and pulls me back into the fold once more leaving me drenched, hungrier, unable to stand still against its power, and once more, hungry to touch the sand again...
I've often wondered where I do belong, where will my soul find the slight nurturing it needs from time to time, and I am reminded both thunderously and gently...the ocean my dear...the ocean, from where you began and to where once again you will return.
