The Letter of the Sea

Adressed to Victor, my youngest son,
a landlubber if there ever was one

How can I tell of the ocean,
how can I describe the sea?
How it feels and the waves' motion,
that so amazes and captures me.

The way the gentle waves,
lap the sides of all the boats.
How the coral and seaweed the ocean floor pave,
all dressed in green and colorful coats.

And in them the fish will swim and dart,
so smooth they are with shining scales;
some swim together while others depart
and they jump amongst the sea spray pale.
For the ocean's end is where it starts,
so I have seen both it's beginning and end, whenever I sail.

The sea, she is a marvelous thing
as she gently caresses the ship's broad hull.
And above I hear the cries and singing
of the ocean gulls.

The waves, always ever rolling,
up to the beach, the shore.
They rise and fall with the tide a-strolling,
forevermore.

At her beginning and end she frolics and plays,
far out she is sad and blue.
But deep within, as dark as sin,
it's as black as my words are true.
But deep within, as deep as deep,
there is a darker side.

When it rises the ships it surprises,
and violently tantrums and throws them about.
The sky becomes dark as the mouth of a shark,
and the ship nearly sinking and miles of route,
sees the storm depart and leave it's mark
on every vessel in the sea,
And so it is when one disturbs,
the ocean's tranquility.

Such is the way of the ocean mysterious,
such is the way of the fickle water.
Has anyone, noble, daring, or delirious;
ever commanded the wild sea or won when he fought her?

Between sky and land is where she stands,
the foam is her white fingertips.
could anyone hold so delicate a hand,
or kiss her whispering lips?

Every shell on the ocean floor,
holds the words she speaks.
you need only listen to the core,
fro the language of the waters you seek.

The rolling waves are her long blue hair,
the salt is from her tears,
she has passions and sorrows but never a care,
and nothing she fears.

The salty air is her fragrant breath,
fresh and sweet.
As violent as passion or still as death,
the shore is where land and sea meet.

And now do you know of the ocean my son?
Now can you feel the passionate sea?
Have you fallen in love, to her shores will you run?
Do you wish to be like her so wild and free?

I miss you my boy and will see you soon,
perhaps I shall tell to you of the moon,
you can't see in your cloudy land.
Sincerely,
Nicodemus-----your loving father