A N T H E M

xxvi. the shallow

Only a few loved the ocean,

and the ocean loved a few,

for the ocean learned the lesson well

that most people only loved her

for her shores, the parts that touched the land

and broke in shimmering waves of sea and foam.

The beautiful, the entertaining, the calming,

the shallow parts.

People on the shore would rather imagine the ocean

as a pleasure, a glittering gift, a useful thing,

than face what in the back of their minds they knew,

but never wanted to believe,

that the open ocean was capricious and dangerous,

the swelling tides a force to hold them under and keep them.

Would they venture there to risk their lives?

A storm at any time, monstrous waves, a tsunami—

No.

They didn't care for the loneliest parts,

unless to use the ocean's bounties for their gain.

So the ocean breathed her worries to the air

and whispered to the colorful swirls of fish near the light

and the eerie and terrifying creatures in the deep.

The ocean loved them as the ocean loved the few people

who dared venture out for fondness of the sea.

The ocean always wanted to change,

but she cared for the creatures who relied on her patterns

so much that she couldn't give them up

and chose to stay the same.