The mainland has disappeared
in the horizon.
There is only the ocean, the ship, us
and the sun’s golden reflections on the waves.
The ships leaves white foamy scars
on the face of the ocean.
She heals slowly
only her heart remains in a following unrest
till the last screams of the machinery
has come to silence.
Then the darkness takes her over
and her children will sleep.
We will be trapped in faint memory.
One day soon we will perish
be gone in a instant
like the foam from a broken wave.
The study of the ocean
heals any broken veins
my heart may own.
THE STOIC OCEAn.
In this, our lifetime,
will we be oceanists?
understand or at least observe it rhythm?