i dont think sea & rock works. too rough. i prefer the wind & the rock. long slow changes, each influencing the other. so let me just write this out on an impulse, before i think its too bad.
she. she just needs to be there. flawed like a broken marble. Or smooth like a polished marble. it does not matter. she just needs to be there. she has to be there, running her fingers over the rough big rock which lies on the mountainside. she can see the rock for the unshaped gangly thing that i am. or feel the smooth edges, shaped by time. if she whispers, the rough become smooth and the smooth becomes rough. there is no ego in me. how can i harbour any ego when she is my wind? if she wants i can become a rolling stone. or a big rectangular boulder, holding its ground. anything she wants me to be. i want to just listen to her. and then be that rough boulder, she might cut her hands with, as she runs her hand over the rock. i will end up hurting her, like i hurt others. flawed. but i will be her rock. and she will be my wind. her hair deciding which way the leaves will sway, as she wishes. and if they dont sway i shall sway the leaves for her. and wash that blood away with the wind. and she shall forget the pain, that i caused the blood. and just feel simple relief that only the wind can bring. we shall live off each other. not within each other. we will travel, as wind and rock, around the world. she moves me, i shape her. we shall give when we can. and take what nobody wants. we shall enrich each other, love each other, hate each other. at the end of time I, the rough uncut boulder ignored by time,
shall swear that there is no wind like her. and she shall say that i was the best rock she ever touched. we shall then be forgotten.