The Cliffs of Moher

Down below, past all numbing rhymes and shallow reasons, the conflict ensues. Here peace is left to decay amongst the tossing tide, and water breaks like forgotten promises. This is where the battle between the lonely sea and ample cliffs escalate into a winter plague. From the beginning this campaign has left the world in a state of unbalanced truth; the sea fighting for what it doesn’t have and the land wishing away what it does. Time and time again, the rock’s face fights the water’s fury as swirling white ribbons roll over each jagged mass. In a fiery protest the land holds its place, just in time for the quick building swell to curl over itself. Like a fickle wife, the waves never cease. Seagulls cry out for a victory; their optimistic applauds echo the wills of the sea. And on and on it goes…

But here we stand on our high up perch, watching the ignorant water as it strikes the broken cliff. I close my eyes. I can hear your heart racing through the loud cracking of the sea below. I lean in, forgetting the salty air that whips around my face and breathe in the warmth of your soul. Our arms wind through each other, like coiling vines and I look at you. I’m miles away from the war, lost in the spinning depths of your russet eyes. Before you catch me, I’m falling from the cliff’s peak and diving into those dark waters below. Rather than perish in the angry wake, I slip into a warmer, hazelnut pool, and thaw my chilled bones. The battle from below has frozen in time as I glide through the rippling waves. Finally I break the surface of the melting honey that envelops me, gasping for air. With wandering eyes I find you, waiting with an open heart to welcome me back. Before I catch my breath, your eyes swallow me once more.