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Vast blue nothingness

by Louis T 2 months ago in nature poetry · updated 2 months ago
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To me there is no fairer place to be

Vast blue nothingness
Photo by Lachlan Dempsey on Unsplash

The sea

I cannot bear

To be too far from her

Rolling, white-capped hills, her salty spray

To me

There is no fairer place to be

Than by her side

No fairer sight to see

The sea

An endless source of inspiration

Ideas brought in by the waves


Each grain of sand

A building block of dreams

Kernels of imagination

The sea

Bordering lands

Of castles made of sand

The place where young children

Carve out kingdoms of their own

With brightly colored tools

Buckets and spades

Thirsty dry sand

Quenched and molded into

Great mounds

Garlanded with emerald seaweed banners

Cyclopean walls


Shady tunnels, salty rivers

Shapely arches, and sturdy bridges

A fighting pit where captured crabs do battle

A spectacle for sandy multitudes

A treasure hoard

Overflowing with shells

Of many colors

Pale pink and gray and beige and creamy gold

With shells that look like coins and shields and swords

And spiral shell cuirasses

We build until our hands grow red and cold

And sand burrows under our fingernails

We build until

Our backs begin to burn

Then we

Cast down our walls

Lay our castles low

And rush headlong into the crashing waves

Plunging into her salty embrace

Sweet relief

The sea

A constant presence

Constantly changing

The calm before the storm

The storm herself

A place where I can feel at ease


A refuge

For a gloomy temperament

A place for me to rage and put my wrath

To have my screams drowned out by roaring waves

My clothes, my hair flap wildly in the wind

My face anointed with flecks of foam

My lips with specks of salt

Mingling with my tears

A torrent reflecting my inner tumult

They said growing bigger would make me strong

In truth it just made me a bigger target

But like her

Being flexible

Is not the same

As being weak

The sea

A travelling companion

The shores may change

But she remains the same

Behind one of her beaches

I stumbled across an ancient grove

That once witnessed the worship

Of wise Minerva and thundering Jove

Toppled columns

Like giants’ vertebrae

Their flesh picked clean by vultures

She is

The final resting place of ruined cities, their remnants

Ground to dust

Fool’s gold sprinkled amidst golden sands

As softly as the silence

The sea

Balm for the soul

I enjoy

Relinquishing control

Lying back

I put my trust in her

She holds me up

In her soothing caress


I hear the sound of her voice in my ear

Washing away my worries and my fears

My mind is clear

I give myself to her current

And drift aimlessly

I am

An infinitesimal speck

Bobbing like a cork

Amidst a vast blue nothingness

She clings to me

Like a hundred sunlit crystals

Dripping back towards the deep

I was the first

To jump from the catamaran

And the last to clamber up again


The sea

No matter where I am

I cannot escape

The enormity of her existence

Her limitless horizons

She is all-encompassing

The sea

nature poetry

About the author

Louis T

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