Standing on the ship, at it's edge. Looking at the water
that moves on along, Excited by the passage of the ship
through the sea. It only touched us for a short while,
forced to take part in the storm which takes place at only
fraction of the sea. Rushing, losing all order and hierarchy
and as it escapes, it unwillingly take a part in the newly
formed scar on the surface of the sea.
It seems unfair to me, these drops of water struggled to
reach the surface of the sea, expecting to be the guardians
of this unity of matter and as they reached their goal,
overwhelmed by the infinity of the universe beyond their
world, they had no chance to admire it. They got torn into
pieces and left wounded on the surface of the sea they
wanted to protect, but not as part of it, but as a layer of
alien matter.
The sea seems to be unwilling to accept these wounded drops,
those who replace the fallen ones fight hard to keep the
unity pure, and refuse to let the victims back into the sea
- to be plunged into the bottom where they shall rest in
peace.

I move back into the benches spread around the surface of
the ship. I can only see the calm sea surrounding me from
all directions, the scar is also visible but it is no longer
seems to be related to our movement, although I know better
I find it comforting to view it as a natural part of the
sea.
It is never easy to feel ashamed, especially when the other
side is kind and providing. The sea surrounds us yet allows
us to move through us with confidence - It is calm, it
enables our journey and it does not get mad at what we do to
it. It might even not have the same concept of good and
wrong that I do, But I can't stop using my own morals to
feel that we do it wrong, and as it does not retaliate and
avenge I feel that I am to speak in it's name with the
language of shame.

I feel better for moving away from the edge - the bloody
scene was uneasy but manageable yet my desire to join was
not. As I saw the wounded sea gushing out of the back of the
ship and it's sides, I felt an uncontrolled desire to join
it, depart myself from the ship who injures and fights and
form an alliance with the victim in need.
The sea does not alienate me for looking away, I feel that
it desire to be united with me.
As I sit, I feel the sea moving me to places I did not
expect to be in. These places are often places I do not want
to be in, yet the sea asks not for my opinion and there is
no struggle between us. It opens a path for me and I follow,
there I have to decide if I want to stay or not.

The sea seems to be knowing and experiencing much more than
I do, it seems willing to share it with me and it asks
nothing for return. I find it uneasy to consider this giving
while I find it hard to deal with the shakings.
It does not stop and refuses to repeat itself - I find it
hard to handle as I keep encountering new paths I did not
have before. The sea demands me to handle the notion of
movement in general, but still handle each motion on it's
own.
I wonder how much of the sea participates in my movements,
how deep does the interest goes, and wide it spreads. Is the
bottom also participates in these movements.

Land is coming, I know that on the land the sea has no
effect. I should take what it gave me through out this
journey and remember it.
As the land grows bigger and bigger and the sea seems to be
ending I turn away to the big unity which hosted me, I say
farewell, look down at the floor, hold my stomach with my
hand and silently say thanking words.