Shouting at the Sea.
Monday, May 26, 2008
♥ Monday, May 26, 2008
At Australia's shelly beach is a man shouting,Against the vast oceans of nothing.THe irony is that a man has found his voice amidst the thunderous roars of the waves against each otherAnd like his life in microcosm, the man has found that his life parallels the chaotic view of clashing waves.And he shouts. He sees that there is something hypnotic about the ocean; like a seductress calling out to him, asking him to plunge into the the unfathomable and unknown, the formless and uncontrollable;for it seems this man's troubles can only be matched by the uncompromising waves and deadly currents;the same currents that whilst has been executioner for some, has been liberator for others. He shouts like there is no tomorrow and the powerful seductress consumes his voice with the cymbals of waves against rocks. And in that comes a spectacle.Does the beauty of nature inspire literature? or does the power of literature reveal the beauty in nature? In that short span of half an hour, that man is presented with the forces of nature like none other: A peace in a distance;a chaos in an instance;a voice calling from without;drowning the terrible loneliness from within.There this man finds the beauty that language can hardly encapsulate, and truths are drawn from him: What he wants and what doesnt,what he fears and what he advocates,what he loves and longs,what he misses and dreads.And he is caressed by the breeze, as if the ocean had life of its own,as if the ocean knew. And there is a barter trade: for in exchange for that tiny ounce of this man's life, comes a measure of peace.