On the Sea Again. It seems I can not leave her for long.

Her emptiness cleanses me of the clutter in my mind.

Grown men stand and stare out at her for hours at a time.

Alone. Quite. Thinking.

All the new technologies have not taken the mystery from her.

We watch the storms approach on paper. We know what we are in for.

And still her power amazes us. She lifts 12,000,000 lb. twenty feet in a matter of seconds. She does this all day and all night without stopping.

The steady rumble of the 6000 horse power engine is a friendly sound.

It reminds me the we are still in control

Mother Ocean is still outside

Waiting for an opportunity to get inside.

Persistant is a good word to describe her.

She is the universal solvent.

She works on steel, Paint, or anything else we set upon her

Including mens souls.

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Dead inside, Dead inside. Every single one of us is dead inside.

In spite of my rage, I am still just a rat in a cage.

Wow, I am sick of doubt.

I am a roamin’ dog, not a stay at home, and moanin’ dog.

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Don’t think about that.

I knew someone who thought thoughts like that,

they committed suicide.

I think about that, also.

Suicide is the most philosophical of actions.

Not the Chicken-Shit suicides of smoking or over drinking.

Not the quick, “I give up.” One say’s on ones death bed.

Or the spontaneous turn into on coming traffic at 60 mph.

But, to put a shotgun to ones head and to pull the trigger, takes a lot of thought.

I don’t have the bravery to cut my guts open or slit my own throat.

If I had the Ball’s to go out that way, I would have the balls to live without fear.

If I could kill myself in such a brave way it would not be necessary for me to commit suicide.

To kill ones self with a knife in the guts, says “I did not do this out of desperation or depression.

I did this because I truly wanted to.”