By Madison Yardumian
buy cialis with dapoxetine The rise and fall of the tides is a phenomena represented in our collective conscience to the point of superfluity. It is over glorified in poems and paintings alike; we beg of it to reflect our inner selves, or the passage of time, or mankind’s futility in actually impacting the world in any meaningful way. It is a sensation that calls to us on barren winter mornings when the sun forgets to shine. Its mention alone somehow feels redundant—like it’s already been spoken for. But this afternoon, I finally understood why. The ocean reflects a perfect equilibrium. Its powerful breath and the quiet ferocity of its strength shock you. Then, as quickly as they came to be, the crystal waters recede, exercising incredible restraint. Mist with the prowess to pierce, drizzles. A foamy mouth bares its teeth but the beast swiftly unclenches its jaw, not one to hold a grudge. The sea is a gentle giant; it embodies the pulse of insurmountable energy but holds all the control. In a way, this is what makes it even more astounding—eliciting in us the fluid intermingling of fear and appreciation we call awe. Struck by the presence of such a powerful force, we look to the patches of deep blues poking through a glassy white crown and remember mercy. The waves nibble at your toes but refuse to bite, their poised white crests dipping and bobbing with the current, as if nodding with encouragement. And today, that is precisely what I needed.
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