The salty spray seems always to only sting,

As the sea flicks it toward me, ever so persistent,

But not a sting of hostility, or that of cruelty,

More a cordial touch scathed by pasts unpleasant.

With seething white foam it greets all newcomers,

Yet if you venture deep enough it goes utterly silent,

The same steady waves more gentle, less assertive,

Yet always remaining unwaveringly patient.

Always sweeping in and drawing back out again,

As it follows a beating heart not unlike our own,

A sombre unpredictability to its many patterns,

A being as truly powerful as it is truly alone.

A soul of as much wisdom as its infinite horizons,

As its wavelets lap past my feet on a moonlit shore,

It shares its plights, and time-borne sagacity,

And my very own burden seems to lighten just a little more.