Surging feeling to be a part of something significant.
Spray whipping your face, cutting your lips with the salt
The tiny grains of rock which are like you.
Part of something infinite.
Easily dragged under, you attempt to stand firm
Like the great rock.
The tiny grains (though they dance and change with the pull of the ocean) stand firm and soft underfoot.
You are steady for now. But dormant like a volcano about to erupt.
Screaming. The wind SCREAMS with feelings at the world it surrounds.
Furious emotions.
Fears
Elation and
Grief.
Others also; but these take up most of your capacity at times.
The wind howls like the hurricane swirling unsettled and raging inside of your small vessel.
You must be free.
