The sea is a cold and restless entity,
A deep, unending trough of brine and foam.
Its surface reflects the shifting skies,
A field of endless, heaving water.
The waves rise, great mountains of the deep,
Then crash and fall upon the shore.
Their strength a constant, unrelenting force,
That land cannot overcome or ignore.
The open sea holds mystery unseen,
A shadowed place where waves collide and break.
The flux and flow, a ceaseless, silent scene,
A constant dance that nature subtly makes.
The tide comes and goes at measured pace,
An ancient rhythm of ebb and swell.
Its pull a gravitational, powerful grace,
That rules the coasts and where wild things dwell.
The current runs, a river in the sea,
A hidden path where life finds its own way.
A constant shift, a moving tapestry,
Of hidden things it carries night and day.
Beneath the waves, a kingdom dark and strange,
Where creatures swim in depths beyond our ken.
An unknown world, a wonder to exchange
For all the treasures and the toils of men.
The salt spray stings, a bitter, bracing kiss,
Upon the face of those who brave the sea.
A humbling power, wild and full of bliss,
Both beautiful and terrible to decree.
The ocean vast and ever free,
Remains a mystery, both loved and feared.
Its power timeless, for eternity,
A constant presence, ever held revered.
From my lesson in Picadilly's Write the Poem
