To a.g., and all the clichés that suffice.    

Here lies the Ocean’s haunting question:
Is it a curse or a gift to be who I am?

                                Who are you then?

Soft touch suffices to smother.
Songs that scream with thunder.  
Hidden depths enough to drown.

Through the sound of the waves
Swashing, breaking, stilling...
The answer of the Earth dawns
In resounding cadence:

A storm is but another name for baptism,
And the Gift of Life I embrace.