From whence you came.

When the world hates you for having changed,

I want you to look at the ocean.

Watch as the waves roll, as the tide washes the shore and returns.

Watch as it gives and receives itself.

Do you think it changes?

Watch as the clouds loom in the distance,

a dream of itself swelling into the approaching storm,

only to fall into itself once more.

No matter how far inland it stretches, freezing onto mountaintops,

melting into springs, streaming into rivers and finally back again.

Do you think it changes?

It thrashes, curves, dips and boils,

it pushes and pulls, it devours and it preserves everything it takes.

Even that which makes it sick.

Do you still think it changes?

And when it is calm enough,

when its swaying face is tame and sweet to slip into,

when you dive into its depths and you still your breath and let it embrace you,

When it blocks out the world and the silence at last comes

When you open your eyes and its creatures and their colours blur in the light,

Gleaming through its clear serenity.

When you gaze into its cold, crisp darkness,

its endless and unknown dangers,

Do you still think it changes?

The ocean is the ocean, in all its forms and faces.

It dances, devours and soothes.

It terrifies us, beguiles us and nourishes us

It is a mirror;

the immortal well from which we crawled out.

And when we return, it welcomes us.

It welcomes itself.

Do it a favour, and do the same.

Remember from whence you came.

Do you still think you changed?