The Beauty in Violence

The day was neither hot nor cold as I walked along the gravel pathway that many visitors to the area would have travelled.

Looking towards the horizon the ocean appeared calm and tranquil. The sun had started its journey from dawn to dusk; the light glistening on the deep blue colour of the sea. It looked like a massive sapphire.

I came around the corner as the wind picked up speed and the sounds that I had been aching to hear suddenly found their way to my ears.

The old wooden bench had love hearts and names engraved all over it although I was not impressed with the spray painted sign that tagged part of the bench and was unreadable.

I sat on the benched and unwittingly stroked it while listening to the roar of the ocean and visualising the waves crashing into the rocks.

The guard rail prevents one from getting too close to the edge of the cliff but one can still watch the waves rush in and batter the rocks with that bright, white foam and that deep breathe before it retreats only to continually return.

Each wave is eroding away the rocks and land taking even a slither back to the ocean floor.

The sound is soothing the mind and as one looks at the repetitive nature of the waves, calmness comes from the brutality of the constant hammering of the shoreline.

Sometimes I wonder why violence can sometimes be so beautiful.

Whitesnakes do it better......... when there's Beauty in Violence

Author Steve Boddey

Picture source Steve and Karen Boddey