Water, Liquid. So fluid!
Smiling, How’s that for circular logic!.
Water gathers. Especially the ocean. Such a presence.
Air? Nothing like it. Not even there most of the time. Don’t even notice it.
The ground? Just a surface, unmoving. We stand on it.
Water? The ocean?
A surface? Yea. Sure.
Always different. The day, the weather….
Transparent? Reflective? Opaque, sometimes.
Part of it.
Infused with color.
The sky reflecting back?
Light shining through its surface?
Slippery, metallic, mirrored….
* * *
Cerulean. The color of the heavens.
They all are. Colors in front of us. Colors of heaven. Or, their complements.
Pale, golden-glow. Sunlight turns sand a bright, honey-color. Water lapping, darkens it.
Gives it the water’s color, stolen from the sky.
Sand? Shares the qualities of both.
Waves called dunes, bury everything in their path. Sand erodes.
Last year’s trail only a memory. Extended. Dis-embodied.
Water’s so hard. Dense.
It smothers, covers, hides.
It takes away whatever it holds. Its surface is so tangible, present.
Not really there when it matters. You can fall right through it.
And, when you do, you’re gone.
Buoyancy can be defeated.
In so many ways.
He shook his head, took a drag off another cigarette, The earth, blanketed by all that water.
Holds everything. Endless, bountiful. Full.
Covers the earth. All but a few scraps. Crags of high land.
A volcano. A flash of steam and smoke…. A violent upheaval, steals a spot. Breaks its surface, mostly. Water eats away at the land. Never rests, always changing.
The sea’s horizon. The only hint the earth is round. Our place in boundless space.
A curve. It hides so much.
Reveals, at its edge, anything coming our way.
Not for those poor bastards down there.
It hid what they needed the most. That fish-eye, their periscope.
A flickering circle, globulous light swimming inside a tiny viewfinder. A peepshow view.
Should have heard the destroyer coming?
If they did. It was no help.
What the Navy called it during the war.
Failed. Failed them.
Like Titanic. All that space….
Go days without seeing anything. The unbelievable happens.
In all that empty waste, Boom!
Was the hardest part simply coming to believe it really happened?
Expectations breaking down?
“We’re not coming back up.”
“Won’t ever see the light of day.”
“Breathe fresh air again?”
“See those we love?”
An Excerpt from a novel, Shoal Hope.