I’ve never sailed, but I’m in love with the sea. Theres something about that horizon that is so out of reach. It’s so tangible, yet so far beyond anything I could dream. I can see it, and I’ve heard her voice so sweet as it crashes in on my ears, melodies I often sing solo in my head, accompanied by the songs of the wind and birds in harmony.
I’ve felt the sands of the beach and the waves as they come in in such violent, and sometimes subtle breaths that speak. There is a calm, yet an authority in her voice that draws me back with longing.
Distance is one enemy, but in the light she sees me is far different then the beauty I see when I admire her in her entirety. I dream about the waves, her hair, and the depth, her soul, and the ever active motion, the evidence of her joy. But how does she sees me?
As an obstacle, something hindering her pattern of life, causing turbulence where it hadn’t been? As someone to toss to and fro, or does she even know the impact she causes me as I throw myself to her, and within seconds, I’m thrown face first into the ground, reality, telling me the harmony I thought we could sing were being sung in two different keys, and though I may find a way to sing in her key, right now it’s out of my range, out of timing, the wave pattern and my beginner body surfing.
Will I ever sail in time with her beat? Should I forget the dream, fall in love with the mountains or the caves or the trees? Should I try to build a boat of my own or keep imagining what it could look like, me and the sea? But I have no boat to board. Should I wait for my companion, a master builder and veteran of the sea and the wind, to build my ship, strong and faithful, sturdy and reliable, built to accompany the ocean and the breeze. I have waited and I shall continue; And ocean, no matter what you think or feel or if you even care that I’m here, I will think of you fondly and dream of setting my sails. I don’t know you, but I love you.
What Matters 