I proclaim my love for the sea. I grew up to search the summits of mountains and valleys of frigid glacial lakes and fast streams. Recently I found the seas embrace in a rocking boat. The shore is blurred, shrouded in clouds. Where is south and the harbour I left behind? I may not have perfect directional sense yet, it was lost amongst the craggy shores and small islands we weaved through. The Captain knows, whether he follows his charts or he pilots via the familiar taste of the salt spray.
We pass tankers, cruisers, sail boats and whales. We all have a place to be and a place we are from. Some I imagine are not so sure anymore and just wait on the water for a realization to occur. Some need the sea to chart their life, they seek its's directional sense. People are not to different when in the mountains. They float from valley to valley, watching the clouds roll in, praying for snow so they can place skis on their feet again and break free of gravity.
The sea and the mountain both wait for me. The sea with its nicely placed log seat on its shore, and the mountain with its warm sun amidst threatening ice and rock.
Apologies for the lame title, I am too impatient to think of another one.