The Ocean speaks
as my Journey-friend:
"Am I not the Mountain?
Are we not as One?
Tis but your own perception
that separates our Song...
Take this rock I've sculpted,
and learn the single Strand,
that holds all Life connected,
is woven by your hand."
How oft upon the Ocean's hand
my soul has wandered Home!
How far beyond Orion's stand
my spirit-self has roamed!
How deep within the forest reach
my heart has danced with Fey!
How wondrous then, upon this beach,
that I have learned to play!
Here the weave of sand and sea,
of sky and cloud, of you and me...
of all that is, has been, will be:
once spoke, twice wished, thrice granted thee.
Who calls the Ocean?
Child or crone?
Maiden or harlot?
Living or stone?
Who calls the Ocean?
Tis only me:
A sacred mosaic
of humanity.
Evening falls
to a violin serenade:
Ocean calls,
as the songs of daylight fade;
here I stand
bidding the Ocean good-night:
She circles my sand
and hugs me with her Light.
Touch the ocean,
and touch within -
soul in soul in Light;
touch the sky's
own velvet skin
as day transforms to night.
The Ocean calls my soul's own name,
and ignites the light of my indigo flame;
then shows her own within her depth:
for we are One upon the Web.
The Ocean reaches out
with her fingertips,
playing "Moonlight Sonata"
on silvery sands...
holding my restless heart
in her lullaby
rocking me quietly
midst classical strands.
Sea
mightly sculptor,
carving rock and precipice,
you've wind and sun in synthesis
with all the beauty you unfold;
immortal artist,
christ'ning all you would reveal
in misty sheathes of love and zeal,
you've touched the shadow of my soul.
The Sea trembles,
weaves with the Wind
her fear and fury,
echoing the Mother's query
and anxious heartbeat
deep, deep, within...
the Sea trembles,
and writes her worries
in the ripples
of a Mountain lake.