Today the ocean is rough; yesterday it was serene.
I no longer hope it to be one way or the other.
My shouting above its roar, flailing about in the surf,
my quiet prayers ashore, leave no lasting impression.
that widens upon a rock-solid perch with a panoramic view
where I might sit dispassionately; partake of the salt air,
the siren music, become drenched in its erratic spray –
at a distance - breathing room -
until that distance dissolves
in the salt grain of an ocean drop
joining without boundaries or objections
its mighty eternal, infinite
storm and calm, ebb and flow.
O child of God, the Ocean calls you.
Work to get more than your feet wet.