from the sky
the surface of the ocean looks like skin. like the membrane of some extraordinary, incomprehensibly large organism that is creeping along, making its way to and fro. as if, were a giant hand to reach down and pet the beast’s skin, it would rise and swell to the touch, anticipating the hand but always moving onward, towards itself.
the land beside it is simply an edge, a dead wall over which the ocean could at once leap and explore were it to choose so. the ocean is alive, spreading itself across and down to be level or is always level, while the land, in it’s pride, grows tall in some places and deep in others and boasts I am the better of the two, I have the humans and the trees and mountains. but the ocean knows it’s power and waits quietly. soon it will wash the land clean.
