My Lips Forever Salty

 

The North Pacific and I share an ever-changing relationship built on elation, cloaked in a heavy respect I’d never turn my back on. Wild beauty in tremendous strength able to change the land as easy as it does ones character. Moodiest of the melancholy during the seasonal storms and celebratory as the sun that sparkles off it’s spirited glassy surface.

Mostly magnificently unexplored and delightedly unmapped, leaving a perpetual adventure of the unknown and home to millions of beautifully strange creatures. 

Fixated on the water, surreptitiously building, I wait anxiously to jump between the tumult agitations that long to pull me into their influence. I take a carefully timed leap bordering speculation. Submerged in translucent envelopment I pause my breath until I break the surface again. Before my heart gets accustomed to the quickening I grab for the jagged coastline and find a foot hold. I sneak out quickly before I awaken the deep and it’s invisible grasp returns to pull me back in. Upright I wait on the edge and pour over the Pacific once more. 

I drift off to sleep by it’s powerful devotion to keep moving, lulling me into the depth of slow wave sleep. It’s deafening rogues spring me awake with rebellious estrangement. I sink back

feeling the rumble of the island. The moon high in the sky yet pulling the tides. 

The coast and my lips forever salty.