A Letter to the Sea (and Ocean)

Dear Sea,

I apologise.
I apologise for not coming to admire you often.
I apologise for my brief glances.
I apologise for looking down and away.

Your vastness intimidates me, though it is said to be calming.
I see that you are tranquil but I also know of your destruction.

I am ashamed to sit before you with the storm raging in my heart,
afraid that our Lord may choose to cleanse me off this Earth through you.

I seek false shelter amongst walls that isolate me.
I feel I do not deserve your company for I am so ignorant, so disconnected.
You are so open, gentle and majestic.
I know nothing and am overwhelmed by your knowledge.
I am nothing and am ashamed before you, impressed by your sanctity.

Your obedience is absolute.
You are tamed.

My heart is raging, wild.
My mind is split and confused.

They say to meditate the sea is worship.

I can hardly look at you;
you are too beautiful, sublime.

You host many nations, both in your bosom and on your surface.
You witness the harmony of nature and its cycles alongside the injustices and violence of men.
You are ever so patient, for mankind has wreaked havoc on you yet you still grant us the pleasure of witnessing so many sunrises and sunsets by your side, in peace.
You still remind us of beauty when all we offer if oppression.

Oh, why shouldn't we be ashamed?
How can I bring myself to touch you at your shores?
Am I not mocking your sanctity for mere minutes of play?
How can I watch such child's play when I need to tame my own storms and the violence in my heart?
How can I come to you in my current state, as filthy as I am?

Instead, I lock myself at home to think.
I stay amongst solid, city walls, walls of delusion, forgetting that perhaps the wisdom in gazing at you is to teach me how you are and how I ought to be.

How your gentle waves change the world silently and your storms and strength protect and defend valiantly.
How you never stop moving and how, perhaps, we don't move enough.
We don't consistently work towards our dreams.
We lose hope, we despair, we get distracted and we procrastinate.
You, you gracefully continue fulfilling your purpose all day and all night.
You teach us to press on.

You teach us to trust,
for if you can exist in harmony despite your immense scale the diverse nations you accommodate,
so can we.
If only we trust as you trust.

You teach us to not be afraid.
To not be afraid to show our passion and inner fire,
but to be graceful nonetheless-
to never be repulsive and repugnant.

You teach us to stay pure,
by cleansing ourselves of the filth we are burdened with regularly-
to be pure enough to be of those who sanctify our path and not tarnish it.

Perhaps when I am more like you I will come and sit by your side. But until then, I will gaze at photos and videos, building up the character and courage you deserve in a companion, and keep remembering you amongst these city walls.

With love,

your small-town admirer