Staring at the Sea: A Return to the Familial.

Vibrant, sanguinary hues and tones,
Capturing the crimson skies and bleeding the crepuscular into the
Eyes of commiserating children.

Sitting at the cliff's edge, a liminal precipice, I watch as the
Storm rages in psychedelic perturbation.
The sea promises to caress me, corrode me and
Return me to my primordial home.

Then she joins me and sits next to me.
She is young and small as I am.
We sit and stare at the sea.
We hold hands.
We are together, we are safe, we are one.
The sea moves in closer, higher, reaches out to us with
Aquarius solicitation and we do nothing
But wait, for this is our destiny, our end, our Nirvana.

She is scared, why is she scared?
Why is she startled?
The sea is our mother, our home?
And then He arrives.
The air changes subtly, deftly, with sinister undertones,
The sea backs away with caution (for it knows a predator when it senses one),
He places his dangerous hands upon Her as
My spirit stirs in spiritual consternation.