The Ocean

I am the ocean.

You are fascinated by my depth and emptiness, 
but you are too afraid to plunge in deep to learn more about me. 

You float in the shallows and say you love my salty tears, 
you love my waves, 
you love the beautiful shells I churn out. 

You are aware there are monsters deep within me,
but you make no attempt to try and find them; 
you make no attempt to see them face-to-face. 

You are happy in your ignorance, 
and I wrap myself around you 
as you frolic in the beauty you see at my surface
and ignore the horrors you know are there. 

I kiss you like I kiss the shoreline,
pulling away 
but always rushing back.

You ignore the fact 
that I swallow the light every night, 
and I am controlled by the ever-changing moon. 

You do not know everything about me, 
but maybe that’s for the best. 

Knowledge would not be power in this case; 
knowledge would suck you into inky depths of my madness 
and cause you to drown. 

I am the ocean and you are simply a tourist; 
you are not an explorer. 
I do not blame you for this one bit.

— 
I credit this guy right here who found and showed me that beautiful piece - telling me that it reminds him of me.
—

That reminds me the last time I went to the beach was 2 years ago.
I'm adding it on my summer to-do list, then.