A squall at sea rises in a crumb of time, from calm to wild the breath of a moment.
A storm at sea will give you the dial code to God, for in that wild brine true believers are born.
The storm at sea goes up tempo in a moment, every sense of pattern and direction would be lost were it not for the compass.
A storm at sea brings a quickening sense of perspective and the relative size of the boat to the brine.
Never have I wished so much for the land, to feel the sweet brown soils of home. For on this sea I feel the rage within, as if the ocean is countless tears ready to pound at the feet of man, to teach he who has wanted yet not nurtured as he should. It is a gale that screams under dark and serious clouds. Yet the boat sails over these watery fists, perhaps with the intention of causing enough bruising for the sailors to remember her anger, enough for them to start a sweet serenade of sorrow and a promise of better care.
The gulls are tossed paper in a storm, flashes of white in the grey, tumbling as they struggle against the gale. Beneath them the sea rises as great mountains, anger in the form of water, turbulent and unforgiving.
As the universe was once a single point, so is my soul in this stormy sea. As the waves rock the ship almost to tipping point, everything I am, have been, or ever will be, is concentrated into this tiny string of moments - as if this is the moment in which I am truly born. The wind is strong enough to pick up a man and fling him to the briny waves. Every sense is maxed out, every muscle already working beyond normal capacity and still there is no end in sight. But I know the captain and crew, we will endure. Better storms than this haven't taken us down yet; this is how we discover what we are made of...
Keep track of your favorite writers on Descriptionari
We won't spam your account. Set your permissions during sign up or at any time afterward.