Blue Whispers
The ocean breathes.
If you are patient and watch long enough, you will discover
the long, slow inhalations.
She draws back, centers herself, while the memory of her reach, in white foam, reveals the limit of her lungs.
There is a singular moment, a crest of change, a shift in concentration, when the deepening release builds where she draws herself up and lets go, pulsing back to shore
she exhales
and eternity rushes toward you in bright, curling waves, in saltmist, she succumbs to the moon’s brilliant stirrings, she falls at your feet tugs you forward, into her, under, with each endless respiration.
I am not the first to notice, nor will I be the last. But perhaps, in this moment, I will help you to remember.
The ocean breathes.