My Poetry

Of Man and Ocean

The stars glance down on the ancient dark mirror below, and find themselves reflected in a pair of unfathomable pools, blue turned velvet by the truth of the night sky. A man, a boy, gazing upwards as men are wont to do, in an attempt to mentally encompass space. The age-old ocean washes about his feet, a tender caress meant for the sand as the sea tries in vain to pull its lover closer. A sensation of at once being large and small surges within him like the surf pounding on the rocks, the roar of crashing waves akin to the bellowing furnace of his heart, yet he stands in silence. What timeless secrets lie beneath that white-capped water, awaiting discovery under blackness? Where the stars see only a mirror, a man may observe a great treasure chest, unlocked yet closed, to be opened. Many a ponderous night he may spend there, contemplating the brevity of his existence in the face of primordial creation. What his mind alights on defies verbal description, emotions far beyond the limitations of spoken language. He stands, one grain among the sands of time, to consider this hallowed understanding. To be human at the feet of knowledge.