The Thunder of Waves

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Quangpraha, Pixabay

It was late when we took a walk on the promenade, the sea was the colour of indigo touched by moonlight. This night was filled with an inner peace that had been missing for a while. I felt alive and part of the elemental dance unfolding before us.

My gaze was irresistibly drawn to the waves as they rolled in and crashed against the shore. I wanted to stay for a while and just look out to sea. It called to me and thundered in magnificence. Llandudno was rather quiet for a Bank Holiday weekend, especially on a Saturday.

The promenade was silent and almost empty of late night strollers. A much different scene to the throngs who filled this seaside resort during the day. As for tonight, it was tinged with melancholy, which only served to make the thunder of  waves sweeter.

The West Shore on the other side of town is quite different in atmosphere but still busy during the Summer months. Its sand dunes and nesting birds create a world within a world. What unites both shores is the call of the sea, ever present, and instilled with joy and promise.

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Skitterphoto, Pixabay

Rather a romanticised view I admit. The element of Water exerts a strong pull on heart and mind, always has done. I’m not a strong swimmer and rarely enter the sea now. Probably due to the cold water!

The Moon was bright in the sky and added a mystique to the scenery. Places take on a different persona after dusk, the atmosphere changes, becomes charged with anticipation. Especially near the sea. The breezes coming inland bring relief and an aroma of ancient memories.

I wondered whether the dream of living near the sea would be realised. ‘Soon, come soon’ the thunder of waves cries.

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JanBaby, Pixabay

I shall come when the dusk approaches and the winds bring news from distant shores. My eyes shall scan the horizon and alight on mountains embracing the coast.

I shall call upon the Elemental forces, ask their favour, beg a boon. What say you great angel Gabriel? Will you allow me safe passage to a place where sweet winds blow and the murmur and thunder of waves enact ancient dramas?

‘Soon, come soon’ the thunder of waves cries.

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Caught in the Mist

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The weather in North Wales during this Bank Holiday weekend has been so far glorious. Warmth and an abundance of sunshine have proved to be the elixir that have revived the land and spirits. To that end we decided to go to the beach, Aberffraw on Anglesey was our destination. Strange how someone who’s lived in a city for most of their life would yearn so much for the sea. Perhaps it’s a remembrance of being in the womb. The sea is after all the matrix within which life was gestated and from which early life emerged onto the land. Coastal areas have an interesting energy, they’re places “inbetween” and are a focus for heaven and earth to meet and initiate transformations. Water as an element is deeply connected with emotions, the Moon and subconscious.

As I write this post the inner tides are flowing back and forth, rather hypnotic and surreal. As were the weather conditions as we got nearer to Anglesey. A huge bank of mist rolled in from the sea, it stretched for miles and infused everything it touched with an otherworldliness. The mist caught essences of people, experiences and thoughts in its subtle but powerful embrace. At times it felt like we were walking through a dream.

The very last image looks like an alien hand lying broken and lifeless on the sand, one that has drifted in from the depths of the sea to end its day on a strange shore…I leave you with that thought.

The photos were taken on my phone camera, I’m still looking for a suitable camera but the one on the phone is sufficient for now.

 

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Sentinels on the Shore

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Barmouth in the county of Gwynedd, North-West Wales was our destination yesterday. The day was relatively dry and bright, a surprise but not unwelcome. The resulting photographs captured the solitude of numerous sentinels lining the beach, and I thought what homage could be paid to these lonely guardians of the shore?

They stand year after year, pushing back the relentless power of the waters of birth and death. For that is the nature of the Elemental power of Water against the Elemental power of Earth. Seashores are places infused with strong emotions, they stir the chalice within, fish out aspects of our lives and offer them as sacred repasts.

These groynes, weathered corpses almost, endeavour to hold back a mighty power, but their valiant efforts cannot stop the inevitable march of life, change and growth.  They should at least be accorded respect and their efforts acknowledged.

Here then is my non-poem as an offering to their spirits:

Incense do I offer you faithful Sentinels, Guardians of shores ancient,

Resilient, even to the end but your salt weathered bodies shall neither wither,

Nor crumble into dust without mourning, without  words of remembrance, and without words of thanks.

We wait on the shore, offer flowers and wine to the departed, sing songs of times past, 

Of heroic acts undertaken, of life lived long and times ephemeral.

Mor, Great goddess of Sun and Sea, hear their cries, for guidance through the dark paths of death beyond life.

Embrace each spirit, take them into your heart, bury deep with the depths,

And usher in a sleep of  waiting, and rebirth certain.

May we then part in peace and love.

Icarus Reborn

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Image: Pixabay

Dying star, phoenix, what shall we call you? What will you respond to? You who dared to reach the unknowable. For the gods are not kind to those who seek to breach the boundaries placed on high. Humanity should know their place in this world, submit to rule and respect divine law. They are not our words but those of the lawgivers. How fare you Daedalus, witness to such a horror? The young know not what it is to listen to the voice of reason and wisdom. Yet, we feel your pain and sorrow. As such we shall grant regeneration and resurrection for the dying star.

How your face mirrors fear and shock! Dying star you have felt the breath of Helios and succumbed to a fate not wished willingly on anyone. Fire consumes and relents not, charring your wings of feather and paper.  The divinity within slumbers still, not fully awakened, gnosis not yet within grasp. Do not relinquish hope little god. The heavens wait for your ascent, but not before the soul is ready to grasp the wisdom that is awaits you within the wine dark sea.

Death is but the final gateway to Elysium, that much we can promise little god.

See how his eyes close now, finally without fear. He knows what is to come, to be enveloped in the arms of the great sea, mysterious, being both beginning and ending. The sky thunders so, heralding a mystery yet to unfold. Little god, little god, breathe, breathe, the release comes soon. He listens and then surrenders to a greater power. We cut the thread that holds life to fate. We weave the thread that holds life to its fate. It is done and it is beauteous beyond compare. See how his divinity flowers, flows through veins with  life blood. Breath returns, life renews, resurrection is at hand.

Knowing is at hand, glory unfolds before him like a veil of stars adorning the heavens. Ascend into life and the heavens winged one. For both heaven and earth shall rejoice at your emergence into life renewed.

The wine dark sea holds its breath and then offers up its prize. Upon gleaming wings of white, gold and ivory does the little god rise. Great Helios greets his child and adorns the skies with gold in celebration. We fade back into the realm between worlds, waiting.