The Sea

She moves,

She moves,

With each breath I take,

She answers with motion,

Undulating,

Rhythmic,

Soothing,

An ancient calling resonates

With the moon as her muse.

No time passes,

She has always moved,

To the heartbeat of

Mother Earth,

A pulse of Natura.

I can return to the

Comfort of my mother’s womb,

In her soft, silky caresses―

Submerged in her briny embrace,

Born anew when I thrust

My head upward.

She is the siren,

That calls to our yearning,

To return to our origin,

To understand our meaning,

To answer our question:

Why are we here?

She answers,

Darkly.

We have forgotten

Her language.

Yet, still she sings,

A patient sound,

Understanding our brevity,

For she has

Always moved,

Always moved.

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