sea 002

I am held by the hand. No, I levitate by the magnetism of the soft fingertips, like a stained-steel pin. My head is almost above the water. The little waves splash and dash, blocking the airway now and then.

Keep me up here, it is nice.

The wooden boat on the transparent sparkling sea green is manned by the nascent power. Looking up from where I am, it seems to rise out of the floating boat and extend into the brilliantly blue sky, breathing the air and punctuating the wind with flowing curls, soaking in the brightness of the day.

The hands splash around in the water and get their wrinkles examined by curious eyes. With every move made, I follow, bounded.

When you drift away, on your own course, I am dragged along. But the force weakens with distance. Soon I will lag. Then I will have to be content that I can see you... then that you are out there... then I will start to doubt that you are out there... then I might...

Faith, has to be blind... or does it have to be faith? Don't I 'know'?

[Edit 14/6/09: PS: My blog has had been marked as a 'spam blog'.]