THE sea was in unrest and in a sort of madness. The three of us, we stood as witness, heeding its subtle gasp through the grasp of the epic flux that lifted the assumedly counted grains from the Earth. Unto the fierce force that was content to reveal all of times once buried secrets, there was no answer, for this was not a question, but a statement to all that which is beyond our perceptions.
So my mind was without true thought, only in awe of thought's absence or, in the better moments, tranquil meditation of the profound presence before us. Such a spectacle, such a revelation was encountered with an immediate concession. But I was so adjusted, before, to bring a world to summation, to yield it to mere ideas, to bicker and lament within coffee shops without some Entirety ever speaking for itself.
And suddenly there was nothing to say, for there was a profound acquiescence, an imposition of consciousness, a call to become—become what? I had not a clue, only a wild eye notion to run without a single care, but within such joy to this tremendous scene the reality became clear that I was not some arbitrator in command, I was not some distant observer who so happened to come upon a epic photo still for a National Geographic.I was a participant in some ceremony of transcendent nature—one apocalyptic and powerful, triumphant and invincible. I was consumed, enraptured but in concession I was united to a freedom, a wholeness—all of us were. We were free.
Yes, the sky was not in ecstatic hue—darkness of the sea, the sternness of the sky, I wondered how on earth these things can be seen as beautiful—but in that transient flow of sand, I believe now there was but one notion that rang steadfast: the epic perpertuation that is at the heart of our ecstasy and also our sorrows.
But on that night, in that moment, I realized that whatever despair I once felt to such a process, the pang of loss that pulls us into dispondency, was a cumbersome deterrant, for before me there was not an antagonistic force that is set to work against us, but forces, triumphant, exultant forces that seek to work through us.
And so we ran against the wind, in ecstatic notions of victory, free and wild and nurtured by some pervasive notion that is still finding its way to words.