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Saturday, 5 July 2014

A poem, a siren song or a calling.

There are many words that capture my calling towards the sea and my restlessness when im land locked but Pablo captures it quite perfectly.

THE SEA
Pablo Neruda, On the Blue Shore of Silence

I need the sea because it teaches me, I don’t know if I learn music or awareness, if it’s a single wave or its vast existence, or only its harsh voice or its shining suggestion of fishes and ships. The fact is that until I fall asleep, in some magnetic way I move in the university of the waves.
It’s not simply the shells crunched as if some shivering planet were giving signs of its gradual death; no, I reconstruct the day out of a fragment, the stalactite from a sliver of salt, and the great god out of a spoonful. What it taught me before, I keep. It’s air ceaseless wind, water and sand.
It seems a small thing for a young man, to have come here to live with his own fire; nevertheless, the pulse that rose and fell in its abyss, the cracking of the blue cold, the gradual wearing away of the star, the soft unfolding of the wave squandering snow with its foam, the quiet power out there, sure as a stone shrine in the depths, replaced my world in which were growing stubborn sorrow, gathering oblivion, and my life changed suddenly: as I became part of its pure movement.

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