The Mélusine

I live at sea. My feet within cold water. My hands reached out to rain. My breath like salt. My hair always flaring, fighting to be its uncontrollable crown. My eyes dark as its depth. My rage a tempest. My drink addicting. My drink bitter. My wants like waves and sometimes crashing like titans upon the shore. I often can not hide what I feel, yet, I manage to hide so much. I reside in secrets.

I can be quiet and rippling, my gull voice that calls soothingly in the distance. I bring both beauty and horror. Peace and pain. I can be impatient, but mostly I let you wander the shore. I do not mind. I am in no hurry for you to enter my clear blue. You splash in I’ll be disrupted, and you might be alarmed when you find my waters are hard to swim with or against. But when you wade into my waters, I’ll but try to keep the serpent at bay. If you choose to leave the safety of the sand, and your approach of curiosity I find loving, amusing, interesting or even harmlessly bland, I will take you to where the coral fades, the rock ceases, and the bottom becomes far and the light of the sky dims. I will take you to a realm of vastness, and you either will be saddened by the profound emptiness and race to the air—or lost in another world, and never wish nor seek to leave.

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