A Poem: The Ocean Beckons (November 17, 2017)

THE OCEAN BECKONS - By Autumn Boyet Stinton (11/17/2017)

A haze of clouds settles atop the world closing an escape and quenching all light,

                                             …the subsequent oppression suffocating the air with weight.

 Fog tendrils emerge from the violent collision of warmth succumbing to the cold,

                                             …fingers grasping, slithering their way across skin. 

The sea boils and churns with angst in reaction to an unfathomable power,

                                             …energy writhing and feeding itself with every swell.

The depths react to the pulsing energy, pushing and shoving toward land,

                                             …forcing waves to mount, crest and coil into themselves.

Power trapped in tumultuous movement, there is no release but to seek the shore,

                                             …there the rolling wrath crashes and releases a maddening thunder.

At the water’s edge the fury of the sea rushes forward the energy dispersed into the sand,

                                             …fury deceivably turned to froth and the tickle of excitement. 

Shrouded in soft caresses and tender wet allure, the sea tempts and seduces,

                                             …wisps of cool and refreshment beckoning with deceitful calm.

Sheer color reflects only purity in the shallow depth of water as it laps and fondles flesh and thought,

                                             …the trick of light concealing the peril lurking just beyond.

The sand shifts beneath as the water playfully envelopes creating a slight disorientation of mind,

                                             …engaging so subtly that conscious acknowledgement is futile. 

Senses overstimulated begin to mask reality as shapes, sounds and sensations intoxicate,

                                             …the water takes hold just as it shifts and begins to retreat with it’s prize.

The surf commands control and the soft pull becomes persistent, beckoning control be released,

                                             …singing a lullaby of calm that overshadows imminent danger.

The sky and the water meld into one just past the breaking point that was the last stronghold,

                                             …the turbulence now behind is replaced by welcoming arms that lull.

 As angry as it was, the sea now rocks and hypnotizes the bobbing prize, feigning peace,

                                             …offering to cleanse trauma and wash away pain.

Enticing calm is presented just below the surface, requiring nothing but to let go,

                                             …come unto me...and the ocean beckons.