Daughter of the Sea

It’s all very Neptunian.
One moment you’re in blissful ease, letting the waves crash over you in tandem with your own expression. Cleansing, enlightening. It’s spiritual. The sun is beaming behind and there are seashells between your toes. Discovering Poseidon’s shapes and sizes and the houses that the creatures of the sea once called home. Each shell chip tells me a story, carrying a seaside spectrum of colors and brilliantly barnacled etchings. No two are the same. 

The next thing you know, the skies are gray. So gray you can’t see through them. Fog. Clouds. The storm’s coming in. There is an eerie feeling as the rain beats down and now you can’t see past the pier. A familiar space swallowed and overpowered by tidal waves and storm. Like getting lost in a dream where you are supposed to know where you are and you thought you knew what you were doing but now you can’t find your way. The agreement has changed. There is mystery within the mist: things that cannot be seen. Is it all over? Well, time is an illusion.

And then you see a butterfly fluttering through the fog. And you are on the 16th floor and you wonder how it got so high. Perhaps it’s Neptune shape shifting again just to say hi to me, his daughter of the sea. 
- Maple Eastwood