The Sea and the Cliff: An Extended Metaphor – Written by Christopher Marshall

The Sea loved the Cliff and every day she would visit him, showering him with wet kisses. But one day her love left her. She still visited, but soon had worn past his sure limestone exterior exposing the soft sandstone that she could mould with ease. She had now completed the ground work and, though from the outside all looked well, a trained eye could see signs of the truth. Soft cold water now filled that space that once held sure solid rock.

On a stormy day, she would send an army of waves crashing into the cave, sending angry blasts of water high into the sky. But, even on a calm night, her gentle lapping would work and work expanding the void to an ever increasing size.

Rabbits played their games on the top of The Cliff as the sun shone done on the lush grass, and ramblers ambled past looking for Gulls and Terns, rarely giving a thought to the hidden nightmare that lay beneath. All this time, The Sea continued her relentless work teasing out the tiny fragments of rock.

Soon the space was large enough that stalactites reached as far as they could; stretching for their friends on the floor, like synapses creating hateful thoughts in the minds of the wounded.

One day during spring, her victory was completed. The North wind somehow sensed that the space had become too large; he was ready to strike. He sent his lover a storm so ferocious that, with a thunderous crash, the rock face collapsed leaving nothing but rubble. But his final cry could not be heard over the sea’s rage. Even this was not enough.

And that was how I felt.

That day.

When I watched you walk away with your hand in his.

In the morning, as the warm sun shone down on the devastated scene, The Sea picked over what remained of the once proud Cliff.

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