Tsunami

I am the sea.

In every form.

Sometimes I am calm and smooth,

I hug the shore. Kiss it sweetly and softly before retreating gracefully, leaving it hungry for my return.

Sometimes I am welcoming. I invite you in to bathe in my glory.

In moments like this, I will wake you up, and make you feel alive.

Other times I am rough and raging.

I meet the shore with a force so strong it recoils and crumbles under my weight. The jagged edges I leave behind pray for me to stay away.

In moments like this, I am terrifying. My wrath threatening to rip you away from the safety of land.

Just like the sea, I disappear completely before disaster strikes.

I will leave you standing on the edge of oblivion wondering where I have gone. Wondering how I could have pulled back so far. It will be too late by the time you realize that I pulled back only so I could return with more power than you can fathom.

A tsunami of emotion, unlike anything you have ever seen.

That’s the thing about both me and the sea. We entice and invite. But eventually, you will realize it’s easier to build your home on solid ground. Where it is safe, and change is less frequent.

And so the sea and I are left longing.

Forever longing.