Please reach up from behind me
And spray me with your salty mist.
I run my fingers against your waters.
With your perfume the air is kissed.

A child plays upon your banks,
Chasing your blues and auqumarine.
The pattering of his bare feet
Is muffled by the waves he sees.

With a flash of anger, he could be swept away,
But he trusts your tempest to refrain
Because the enchantment of an ocean shell
Keeps him tied upon your banks.

Where is your weekness?
You make up most of the world
While what is left of it depends on your existence.
I watch the seafoam start to swirl.

The earth beneath your depths
Can anger you with the slightest shift,
And you'll come roaring to the shores
To wipe out all that there exists.

Your sound can lull the lonesome to sleep,
Or coax a child to bed.
It says more with one gentle sweep
Than many could have said.

Where is your end, O peaceful waters?
It does not meet the human eye.
The earth's curve hides it with a horizon
Until we must imagine what lies beyond.

An ocean so vast, so vague as you;
There must be a mind behind its splendor.
I thank my Creator, and yours, little ocean,
For He is the one worth kneeling before.