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El Mar



EL MAR




Me encontraba parada en un viejo muelle de madera quebrada. Las olas se golpeaben y chocaban contra el poste que apenas mantenía al muelle erguido en el precipitado océano azul. La brisa salada perdida en su humedad me mojó de pies a cabeza, sin importarme estar completamente empapada.

De repente un rayo chocó en medio del océano. Las nubes se hablaron entre si mandando mensajes vívidos para que la madre tierra temblara. El sonido tronó a través de los huecos del cielo, brotando su interior, soltando sin cesar todas sus lágrimas al océano. Jamás se separaran. El cielo tiene muchas penas que desahogar y cuando crea una tormenta perfecta, suelta todas sus tribulaciones, llora. Incansablemente. Llora. 

El océano abre sus brazos fuertes para recibir con alegría, todo lo que se le derrame, lo acurruca hasta eventualmente crear una fuerza vívida, que crece a formar olas altas expresivas que crujen en carcajadas y perdonamientos, que juegan y gritan cada vez que sienten sus corazones explotar y que a veces chocan entre si  para luego ser mecidas  hasta alcanzar la orilla de la playa.

Ahí parada, observaba. Mi piel comenzaba a erizarse y el agua recorría salvajemente entre las furiosas olas que los cielos densos habían impulsado.  De repente, como si por magia, las olas comunicaron un sonido distinto que empezó a soltarse hacia la madre tierra quien con su amor absorbiera su locura; llamándola para que la marea se citara con ella en los términos y suelos de la sedosa arena blanca. Luego las olas se desenvolvieron y se acercaron cada vez con mayor suavidad - retornaba y se retiraba. Los susurros de la lluvia fueron suavizandose hasta que desaparecieron. La Calma llegó a ser completa. 

Yo seguía parada al final del viejo muelle de madera. Por primera vez me sentí parte de algo. El Mar. Me volví una con el agua. Una con el mar. Me convertí en... el mar.







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