Harsh of tumbles of the waves, akin to lighting below oneâ€™s feet, shattering in earth rocking the world beneath the wild sea. Once to composed and decaying moss cerulean, clear as diamond glass, able to see life that lives under at quiet times of ocean, while the sky clear as it, matching in tinted hues of blue.
Peaceful in sight it was before, the clouds came in, command by the keeper of the sea, with powers only active thinkers could ever imaginative created in such short fable tales.
Even when the tides raise enough, something, unknown if evil or confusion, is its motive, only enlighten unnatural strings. Thick ropes, striking forms into reaching out, to what the object is.
To whatever earned this affection, almost seems empty or too thin in giving much care, which could feel resembling love or even hate. Yet, the mind in thought is veins pulsing in some kind, of excitement.
Hitherto, it stayed as thus, nothing an emotion that runs high and crazed feelings.
A lost this has become in knowing and understanding nothing. Seagulls out far, their calls fading in mixture of white noise, as the storm presses on, come in distance, already shouldering an emotion, that much an undersea being mocks the humans above.
Could signs of it being the end, the clouds will thicken, darken, whitecaps will raise drowning the stones that form the shore land, rough and dry far off, but close wet and slick.
When all is lost, there comes that glow, bright but more of a science tone than anything else. For if it was heaven; it is only one light, so proud of it.
By far, not heaven, but the sun, in fair, dark pink that fans wine crimson and murky carrot, all paling out as the rays stretch out. In first sight, it becomes, nothing else but one word, none the less, hope.
Simple and cop-out as it sounds, thatâ€™s what comes as; expectation for something grand to come.
Even as the white belly with sliver wings seagulls calls still echoed, knows as a song that is nothing, but pleasant to the ears. As soon the sky clears and the sea settles, set sail out and go towards that and subsist.
Clearing Up, Coast of Sicily by Andreas Achenbach
Painted in the year; 1847
Location when painted; Siena, Italy