Tongues of the Ocean … and the gathered waters he called “seas.” Genesis 1:10 … to an unknown ocean. John B. Lee The cool, green ocean. Richard Grove What is it about the ocean? Kim Grove Here I stand upon an inconstant, undulating line drawn by the bold tongues of the ocean soft-lapping the sand, age-old event-remodeler of earth, lung-like marine renewal exchanging blueness/greenness over fine-grained rock. Sensations of gratitude visit as sinuous as the hieroglyphs carved unyielding warm wetness massaging my bare feet a mind-healing airborne primeval version of algae, corals salting my nostrils. Liquid silence prompting me to envision the enigmatic abyss beyond – below. Ocean mumbles wave-symbols, speaks in rippled idioms skipping from surf-crest-to-surf-crest. Low tide bids farewell; high tide surges in imposing its voice of water on lovers´ only recently written, short-lived words rinsed away by replicating tongues never ceasing to roll in upon the seashore, never relinquishing their regal station, their licking-sweeping their sculpting role beneath a contemplative sky.
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