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Published:June 4th, 2008 11:15 EST
Winter, The Sea, and My Soul

Winter, The Sea, and My Soul

By David Richardson

Winter and the sea.

The massive, rolling, shoulders of the sea heave and swell with

impersonal enormity and winter-borne winds sweep cruelly across

an endless expanse of desperate blue and frantic white; foaming

and violent.

Winter and the great sea.

The heaving waters of the sea move thoughtlessly, and with somber

abundance and there is a certain sort of sadness that broods

at the sea in the winter; and torments my soul.  It is nameless

but filled with familiarity.  I am drawn to it, mesmerized by it,

insane with it, and am loyal to it.  The great, roaring, desperation

of my body walks hand-in-hand with it; I am solemnly

in union with it.

Winter and the sea.

Like an enormous reel of film, the winter always brings back

to me, in flickering black and white, the whole of my life,

in all its tarnished gallantry and pathetic pathos, bringing me

once again to my knees and reminding me, speechlessly, of

the frailty of man.

Winter and the great sea.