Waves are martyrs and the shore it’s battlefield,
Don’t you see how selflessly it dives on to the sands sword,
To the alter of sacrificial yield.
That is why you can’t win against the ocean.
The engineers of the titanic all but tried,
The arrogance of men caused others to die.
A relentless never ending army of love,
Angelic backing from heavens above.
Torrents of soldiers rolling on,
Reserves of men, horizon long.
Sunken secrets, surfaced to spume,
Subtle ripple or rip tides to consume.
Poets have mistaken it, metaphors of romance,
But it’s cannons are loud, waves crashes advance.
The ocean is an empire on its own,
Solitudes of peace, if you leave it alone.
There’s no place for fancies of ebb and flow,
Plagiarised words, done to death row.
To speak of love and the ocean, there is only one connection,
It’s of the waves devotion, to the ocean’s protection.