The Sea

Blue the gathering colors, as waves dance with salvation. Story’s wrought from salt, rocks bare themselves when sun enthrals the winds to rise up close. The breeze sharp and fleeting brushes across those gentle forms, each curling essence finds its voice in the rhythms of the air: and all surrender to the ocean’s hymn, from which we emerge, breath, driftwood lost in its eternal sea.

• Rainer Maria Rilke