Seething surf, so loud it almost deafens, beats the boulders, and I wonder who will win the eternal battle. I listen closely as I draw. The voices of the sea are sometimes soft, sometimes harsh. The rocks are stoic though, it will take the sea eons to change them~~to wear them away.

My pencil almost works without me. I draw, erase, draw. The leaded wood leads my hand; like a dog on a leash held by a mistress who isn't firm. I stop my sketch. The voices in my head are louder now. They speak, luring me close to the water's edge.

I look through squinted eyes at a dark equine form bobbing in the water. Its eyes bulge and beseech. The voice is loud now. Almost screaming at me. I must finish the drawing before dark and I return to the paper, now damp with the ocean spray, damp with my tears.

The Kelpie I have drawn is me, and I it. And when I return to the sea, my mate and I will be one again. One with each other. Beneath the dark and quiet deep.