The ocean, she calls me for reasons I cannot understand.

Her sounds bathe my battered heart, her waves soften my sharp corners and polish the rough edges left by heartbreak and abandoned dreams. 

Her tide comes softly and sweeps away broken promises, erasing missteps and swallowing secrets, allowing me to start anew.  She leaves fresh ground where footprints have not tread, leaving space for me to make a new path.

She is a salve to my soul, a promise of new beginnings, soothing my sins and sorrows. 

Her hushed tones whisper of forgiveness, protection, anonymity, and community.

She is both wildly unpredictable and the surest way to count the days.  Her depths are to be feared, consuming even the light itself, but her surface can hold the heaviest vessel afloat. 

Some days I float gently on her surface, letting her waves lap my skin and carry me along at her whim, feeling comfort in her chaos.

Other days I sit on the shore and fear her wrath, knowing that I cannot contain her, only seek shelter and let the storm pass. 

Her eternal rhythm grants me solace, a reliable voice in this unreliable world. 

I understand her and she listens to me. We are at once bound and boundless.  

We speak the same language, one of rhythm not words, one that demands to be felt, not heard.

The ocean and I, we are one.