Cresting waves aquamarine dream diamond reflections sparkling on water current movements ruled by Luna herself - Goddess of the night lighting all around her, her back warmed by the Sun. Gender roles that used to be switched and for all we know, may switch again. There are changes in the currents, tidepools deep within the underbrush. Flickering fire still continues to char remains and ruins of a civilization long past, yet everlasting never ending. Fire the ultimate purifier and destroyer. I Am Shiva. Hum. 

Regulatory oratory performatory in all its glory. I look back on distant beach days with gladness and satisfaction that I have seen snow, I have seen the ocean. I have been to the coast at night with a ruptured soul and dissonant blood flow, when frigid winter breezes blow bitterly and seem to mirror and echo the song in my heart without outputting a single note, and perhaps that to which I am grateful. Combative elegance in the "no, no, yes, yes". Staple gun pulpit. Machines ready. Built by men to kill other men. I just want a sailboat. I just want to confirm the taste of salt in the ocean tides. Knowing that the marine life is still there, down below, and that once upon a time Pirates and Vikings were once here, water as the ultimate passageway to new adventures and new lands and eventually, the invention of Peanut Butter.