Third Sunrise this Week

A fin. Just one. But I think it's a dolphin, the way it arcs the middle part of it's body over and into the water. Can't see the head or the tail. I hope it is a dolphin because it's not very far out. It's probably partaking of the fish we see jumping up and plopping into the water about the same distance out.

I was thinking of staying in and watching the sunrise from my bed/couch, but the urge to come out here was too strong. The ocean. It's alive.

I think of those who lived near the sea in the times before we thought we knew so much.
I've heard they would sing to the Great Orb to greet its return each day. To sing with the accompaniment of the waves would be better even than to swelling, overlapping Om's. Singing to the Oneness we are all a part of. That's what it is, I suppose, if language must be applied to the experience.

Before I see the sun, I see the light showing up in colors I won't even try to put names to. Will I be watching in that second the topmost arc emerges from the misty horizon? Will I hear a song?

To know that we are the ones moving toward you,

Does it really matter?

You come to us --

We come to you --

In the end it is the same.

We see you appear.

We feel your rays, alive.

I see it. I watch it rise.

I should have counted, but it took only about a minute for it to be fully risen. I looked at it long enough for my pencil lead to look fuchsia instead of graphite as I'm trying to write with it. Psychedelic-like.

The song came from you, perhaps, and they heard it and sang it back to you.

The moment it was appearing was intense.
The music was a swelling succession of sustained notes as if by many voices or instruments. A lot like the waves, except rising in intensity and pitch, probably because my eyes and heart were transfixed. It looks so large in the moment. A ship passed across it in that moment. I could see the levels outlined as the orange leaked through the openings in the structure of the ship.

On the way back to the house, I noticed a dead stingray that had washed up during the night. The pretty white birds were having a free meal along with a large black crow which must have caught the scent from who knows how far away. Fortunately, I could not smell it. Eyes open. Kite shape. Just lying there. Ah. Isn't that life, though? Beauty and naked death in one big gulp.