Chasing The Horizon Line

When the sea falls in love with the sky, what is to be done but watch each other from afar, knowing that a simple embrace would mean the end of the world?

I force myself to settle for the most minimal of interactions with the Sky, only those which nature would force on its own. Each time a bird swoops into my seas, I’m allowed the faintest taste of his essence. Once the bird catches a fish and soars into the skies once more, he is allowed a taste of me. He tastes like an airy gust, refreshing and warm on my tongue. He tells me that my taste is of a cool salt, vitalizing and savory melting on his.

He’s more of an introvert than I–seldom letting creatures enter his body while they wade freely through me. He prefers avians while I welcome anything that can swim. He’s a gentle soul, though occasionally he gets struck with anger, unleashing torrents on the lands below. I try to absorb the brunt of his emotions, but occasionally I get riled up along with him, joining him to create tsunamis and tornadoes and anything else to quell our rage. Together, we rush through the land, destroying anything that displeases us until we’re finally too tired to continue. Then, we ease back into our calm lullings, content with life once again.

Sometimes he’s sad, or so happy that he can’t help but let his tears fall into my waves. I carry them, cradling them as long as I can before they mix too thoroughly with my saltwater. That is another way we may touch, even for a moment.

It's a selfish thing, wanting more than these slivers of his touch, his taste, the whistling of his wind into my ear. I've been given the power, if I please, to crash into him and destroy this world. However, I also have too much of a conscience, too much of a love for all that lives on Earth. My love for the Sky and my love for the world wage wars against each other in my heart, the wreckage forever tearing me apart. What am I to do when even a simple embrace would mean the end of the world?

Our role is to provide domains for the living to occupy, to supply Mother Earth with skies to soar through and seas to wade. We take great care to perform our duties, working earnestly with each other to care for the living. After all, we are made to exist as long as they can continue to prosper. We were birthed along with this earth, spoken into creation to be providers for the animals and the plants and the wonderful ecosystems of the world. For millennia we performed our tasks dutifully with no unnecessary emotions hindering our intentions. That changed during the Great Flood.

His rain meshed with my tides until I grew higher, enveloping the land forms of the Earth. There, at the top of it all, I finally saw his face.

All deities have a human-esque form hidden behind our primary bodies, though we can seldom be seen as such. His was of a young man with airy, light hair where blue bloomed from the top of his head in a shade so light it could be confused for snow. It travelled down past his eartips before blending into subtle hues of the oranges and pinks that mark the sky at sunset. His skin was a milky white, pale as the clouds on a perfect overcast day that retained just the right amount of light from the sun. His eyes held the same shades as his hair, but the blue was darker, indigo like his form at midnight.

The colors in his eyes caught mine as his lips curled upwards in a shy smile. I rose my hand, waving at him timidly. He mirrored me. At that, we released a collective breath. We sat down across a mahogany table for the first and only permitted meeting between the sky and the sea.

Pleasantries were exchanged before the conversation drifted to describing the way that life teamed in our mediums, and later to our shared memories of rainstorms and tornadoes until we were consumed by amusement thinking about how foolish those trifes had been. Perhaps it was merely the lack of interaction with others that compelled me to reach over to him, touching the side of his hand with mine. At the time, I believed it to be acceptable to feel him in a way beyond what nature permits, as this flood was far from natural. I was lonely from my infinitesimal time alone. He startled before locking eyes with me. Whatever he saw in them brought him ease, his hand moving to cover mine.

We were sitting side by side now, and I leaned into him to rest my shoulder in the crook of his neck. We fit perfectly together. He held the form of a young man, and I of a slight young woman. He brushed my long, unironically wavy hair away from my face before resting his ear on the top of my head. There we rested in a heavenly warmth, the sky and the sea as one.

Too soon, it was over, and I had to return to below the lines of the land and serve as the habitat for the creatures of the sea. Before I was torn away, I took once last glimpse at him, squeezing his hand. He squeezed it back, vowing to love me until the end of our days, until the world was no more.

Returning to the shores, my heart full with the certainty of his promise, I laughed. Humans in love often make false vows to love each other to the end of the world. We could never meet again, and yet we would take the vow in its literal sense.

Centuries later, I still find solace in his rainwater colliding with my waves, his winds stirring me up and our natural bodies creating whirlwinds in fits of emotion. I still long for more of him, to cradle his human-esque form in my arms, to lean into him, even just to relive those fateful moments where we could be truly together without the weight of the world on our shoulders. To not just work together to provide life, but to be one together just as humans are in marriage. We exchanged vows as they do, but I still wish for more.

Selfish, selfish seas. I tell this to myself every day, even when his raindrops are heavy with the weight of his longing for me just as I long for him. Of course I'd never risk the world for our forbidden love. I could never run into his arms at the world's behest. Especially when the end of the world would mean the end of him, too. So each day I chase the line called the horizon, that rumored spot where humans claim the sky can meet the sea. Maybe one day I'll find it, and I can hold him in a heavenly embrace without ending the world and all within it. Maybe one day I could return his vows the way I didn't that fateful day. Maybe one day we could have our happily-ever-after, just like in the songs sung by sailors and stories told by mothers to children.

Please, horizon. I wish such a spot would truly exist.