There are evenings when the sea becomes a mirror of heaven, and every hue—amber, rose, cobalt—seems to breathe with the memory of light. In these photographs, the horizon is more than a line dividing earth from sky—it’s a quiet threshold between what we can hold and what we must release. The sailboat drifts as if in prayer, and a lone swimmer wades into the vastness, drawn not by motion but by stillness itself. She belongs to that in-between hour when the day exhales and night inhales, when water and soul are nearly the same element—transparent, luminous, and free.
Wading into Vastness by Ocean Eversley©2025
The sky dissolves in color—
tangerine melting to rose,
rose into the waiting blue—
and somewhere between them,
a quiet vow is kept.
The woman steps into forever,
each ripple undoing gravity’s pull,
the sea folding around her
like a hymn she almost remembers,
one taught before she was born.
Far off, a sail leans into silence,
its mast tracing a thin prayer
against the fading brilliance.
Everything moves by grace here—
the kind too soft to name.
Shoreline and sky exchange breath,
the edges blur,
as if the world remembers
its first moment of creation
and begins again, tenderly.
In this light, nothing is separate—
body, wave, wind, or flame.
Even time loosens its hold,
and the sea, in her ancient mercy,
calls us back to ourselves.