Tuesday, March 12, 2013

Weekly Creative Writing #14


"But more wonderful than the lore of old men and the lore of books is the secret lore of ocean."
~H. P. Lovecraft

       From the gentle swooshing of the waves upon the shore, to the thundering anger of it’s deepest caverns during a mid-day storm, the ocean is never predictable, except for its ancient tide.  And that’s why Calliope loved it so much.  It was both her twin sister and her mother.   
       As her sister, it lived a life very similar to her own.  Some days, it thrashed around, its passions uncontrolled and wild - the core of it burned with fury or radiant ecstasy.   Some days, it remained sentimentally calm and painstakingly nostalgic as it reflected on its superior, the sun, with dazzling luster.  The sea understood her quite well. Her life was not the kind that remained in utter turmoil constantly, or the kind that never seemed to miss a beat.  Her life was capricious, erratic and whimsical.  And, Sister Ocean, reflected its mistress and master, the sun and moon, and reflected its sister, Calliope.  
       And, it was her mother.  In a mother’s warm embrace, the world suddenly becomes small and one’s mother a more magnificently larger pillar of security.  That’s what the sea did for her.  It embraced her, and everything around her - every worry, every care, every dream - seemed insignificant to the immense comfort it bestowed.
       But, beyond all that, the ocean was a prayer.  Its created nature held something heavenly within it.  The Divine seemed to have touched that part of creation.  God’s Spirit, before light or human life existed, hovered over these waters.  The ocean was a prayer which beckoned for God’s presence in her life.  These waters, at God’s command, destroyed the face of the earth in forty days.  The ocean was a living raging prayer of repentance.  And, on the these waters, the Son of God had placed His feet and calmed the raging waters.  The ocean was a prayer of healing and peace.  And so, she knelt down, and spoke with her sister and her mother, and felt her prayers soak into her pale pink dress, and the salty incense fill her hair.

For my wonderful friend's counterpart of this weekly themed concurrent writing project, visit:

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