Sitting On a Jetty As the Waves Crash Around Me and the Sun Crouches.

Only water flows into my kishkas this way. The water, oh the water.

Can anything compare to the explosion of a splash against a rock? I think not. I can't stop thinking. Sitting by the water. Oh the water.

Every drop a wave. Every wave a current. Every current an ocean crashing into me.

"And, and, and, and, and," the water says to me, moving in and out, uncatchable, unavoidable, unbelievable in her grace."

Now never feels as tangible as it does at water's edge.

Come redemption, wash over us. Don't ebb away; wash over us. Purify us "sooner than immediately" (as someone recently emailed me regarding the time frame for which he needed me to help him meet his perceived needs).

In this place I feel good.

There is no tension at the end of the ocean.

You should be here with me.