Boiling fury, unattainable power, white eruptions,
Pushing then it pulls, striking then it steals.
The silence of the oceans anger, power with no corruption,
A strength and passion causing all within to kneel.

I stand at the crash point at night and feel its aching,
Whispers the sand silently speak, shifting it's patterns on my feet.
The silence on the surface tiptoes across the breaking,
God's metaphor for power, silence and where they meet.

I leave the water, my feet again meeting harsh road,
The warmth of the day almost gone.
the last heat remains yet its release is slowed,
the moons heart is heard and will be felt again at dawn.

The power of the sun found in the power of the moon,
the power of the waves, oh Lord, speak enough to me.
How one thing's power seems gone but returns so soon,
you transpose yourself, and through the ocean I see.