Would you still find me here? Would you take me as I am?
The pulse, the rhythm, the desolation that is left behind as the sea pulls far far away lingers; the air hums with vicious whispers of what builds beyond sight.
The shake and the rumble of dark water, the light that shoots through the darkness, the wonder and awe that sparkles in our eyes, while our heart thumps wild in our chest.
I stand quiet and empty at the foot of this beast, this monster. I stand waiting to be engulfed, smashed, destroyed. It is welcome. I am unafraid. I should be, shouldn't I?
All around me is dry land. Dry, cracked land. My dress is dirty, my face smeared with the evidence of toil. Before me towers an impenetrable wall of power. It climbs and grows. The sea has swelled up and here it will swallow me whole.
I laugh in the face of this outwardly perceived end of all that I am.
My damp hair whips around my face. It stings, but oh to feel!
The rain falls hard against my bare flesh, but oh to know that this is my end, my return to that which I came, to know that once the waters settle I will be clean and new and fresh.
To know that this is my destiny, my calling; my existence is nothing more than this cyclical death and rebirth in these waves of thunder. To know that here is my end, but here too is my beginning.