The Counselling Sea

Sitting on the sandy beach, pale, gritty, beach of rubble, overcast, grey, patchy, breaking cloud formation, just sitting, quietly, silently, pondering thoughts, where does the sea water originate from, how far does the tide go out, how do waves occur, all questions unanswered from afar, the sand between my cold and frost bitten toes, warm, yet harsh and plentyful, running as the tide comes in, to wet and replenish my skin, the feel of the fresh water, gliding up my legs, regrettable salt marks, must wash away, wash away the darkness, the radical thoughts, a sense of calm, freedom, and symbolic sounds.