Prompted Poem: The Ocean

Wave after wave after wave after wave.

The surface, while still only home to the brave,

is easy. At least, more predictable.

With the power to crush, sustain, deploy,

to lift, to drown, create or destroy,

it instills, still, less wondrous terror

than the invisible.

Give me a life of constant change,

in which currents and tides lead the way

to the strange,

so long as it unfolds before my eyes,

and I don't have to know what,

in the darkness, lies.

Depths at which perception is but a dream,

a memory unclear, and there is only one theme:

unknown.

Where it has been eons since the sun

last shone,

and the pressure's enough to make dust

out of bone,

but somehow, life persists.

Perhaps I could learn a thing or two from this...