My sister has many moods, in unknown hues she accounts for all - and for no-one at once.
Oh sea, look at you striding in torrents with your talon-like waves today. Falcon-talons, curling at the edges to grip what lies just an inch away; and still an inch apart
Tumbling storms heave in your heavy lungs. What do you witness in this breath? Are you breathing, or fuming my sister? Are you angry at the world perhaps? I hear they used to call you a turquoise blanket; that must have been when you were calm. I hear the sailors sang to you? Do you care for their lost bodies and their sunken ships? Do you hold their melodies in your arms?
I saw you once sea; in the quiet of the still night. You were only whispering then. And the moon was dancing on your soft, cushioned tops. You didn’t see me at first. But when you did you didn’t stop. And I cried watching the ways and the whispers between her, between you, between me. It was she; who moved and pulled you – she, the silent moon, with her almost-nothing beams.
Untameable sister, you account for no-one and everyone. And yet you waltz with her. Two sisters baring secrets in that knowing way. And my own untamed tear, which was made of some salty, wild you - also glistened on my cheek – dancing quietly with the moon.
Sister, sea.
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