I saw the ocean, deep blue and weightless,
rising toward the shore.
I watched that immense wave break upon the rocks,
its fury spilling out,
shattered into a billion fragments of defiance.
In that moment,
I felt small,
minimal,
fragile,
wordless,
my breath frozen in awe.
A shiver,
an omen,
coursed through me.
I thought of the power, so immense,
required to move even a fraction of that force.
I thought of the cold,
the wind,
the overwhelming weight of it all.
I saw the flash
but had not yet heard the thunder.
And all I could think of was you.
I had seen this same force in your gaze,
and though it was beautiful and terrifying,
it was nothing compared to you.
And no,
I do not fear you,
though surely I tremble.
Because you are the sea,
the storm,
the fire.
You are magic,
superstition,
the creed,
the miracle.
You are cloud,
lightning,
wind,
mist,
and ice.
You are the moment that turns into tempest,
stopping everything,
staining everything.
You are the roar that brings it all crashing down
and the silence that follows the void.
You are the mystery
of what horizon?
an abyss of light
and shadow
that calls to me
and drowns me.
There is no truce with you,
nor do I want one.
Because in your chaos
I find order,
in your fury,
the calm I do not seek
but that finds me.
You are the fire
that consumes me
and shapes me,
the wave that crashes
and rebuilds my borders.
And even so,
I cannot encompass you.
You are everything and more.
You are the earth’s cry,
the sea’s whisper.
And I, a mere witness,
am lost in the vastness
of feeling small before you.
