We invent nothing. We borrow and recreate. We uncover and discover. All has been given. . . . We have only to open our eyes and hearts to become one with that which is.
~ by Henry Miller
Often it is the ocean itself
that speaks in its roiling voice
its thunderous tongue.
What it is saying
I have listened to for years,
as it crackles and whips,
or whispers in its silken tones.
Even now I am not sure of its message,
its assaults of thrill and boom
shattering the rocks
into flares of light.
Something about Mystery,
something about uncontainable
Love.