The sun radiates heat upon my face,
the waves are rythmatic heatbeats within my ears,
the sand comforts, a familiar warmth from the years.
opening my eyes I see the bright orange ball descending,
so strong and powerful it takes the sky with it
in streaks of orange, yellow and pink.
there are no paintings like these on any canvas
the living beauty exists only at the cape,
on its' shores, the waves beating in tune.
crashing itself loudly against the shore,
the waters carry the most powerful source of all,
taking everything back into it's womb.
listen to the stories waves tell,
of strong men devoured by the sea's desire.
of undefeatable battleships sleeping on it's floor.
listen to the ancestors cry from it's grave,
calling you home;
perhaps warning you away,
My blood beats in tune of it's own accord.
responding to those that have gone on before,
recognizing the dna in the molecules of ocean spray.
Her voice cries to me loudest of all,
a great grandmother whose name I share,
passing to me the strength from the waves.
breathing in the salt air,
I receive her strength, her wisdom,
the courage and power.
opening my eyes I find
the fire ball has gone to rest...
the bright moon rises to compensate.
the gulls call with a mocking laughter,
the moon is expansive and full,
the waves crash strongest and loud.
the mocking breaks the fantasy,
the ocean has no strength,
my blood holds no power.
knowledge creeps in,
herein lies the truth;
as the moon wanes, all will return to weak.
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