My home looks over the bush and not the sea but I often travel to parts of the coast that have rocky outcrops, sheer rockfaces and houses that perch on the edge of cliffs.
There is something alluring about the sea as it's waves crash on the rocks. The restless deep as writers like to call it.
I love how the sea shapes the lives of all who live near it and how it cannot be controlled.
Today it's quite windy on the coast and as I write I can imagine the white foamy sea lashing at the rocks at Norah Head and near the headland at Terrigal.
For me, my favourite poet, Kenneth Slessor evokes the meaning of the sea in his work 'Five Bells'.
'If I could find an answer, could only find
Your meaning, or could say why you were here
Who now are gone, what purpose gave you breath
Or seized it back, might I not hear your voice?
I looked out my window in the dark
At waves with diamond quills and combs of light
That arched their mackerel-backs and smacked the sand
In the moon's drench, that straight enormous glaze,
And ships far off asleep, and Harbour-buoys
Tossing their fireballs wearily each to each,
And tried to hear your voice, but all I heard
Was a boat's whistle, and the scraping squeal
Of seabirds' voices far away, and bells,
Five bells. Five bells coldly ringing out.'