Answer the Ocean
It hurts, being so close to the ocean. A thrill of pain that grates against the heartstrings as I watch the golden sun sparkle and dance across millions of little wavelets. I can feel it breathe, I sway to its rhythm and pulse, I feel the sheer spiritual weight of it in my chest. I stare over it as a lover lost, one so dear that I must wrest myself away from. I dare not reach down and feel its caress slip through my fingers, dare not stand at the edge of the surf and bask in the pure psychic force that exists where the sky meets the earth and the pounding of the waves. I can only glance at it from afar, lest it rip and tear at my heart, at the tenuous mending I'd just barely put in place. And I taste salt on my lips.