Ocean Poem by Egwu Collins

The realm is still.
Not made of steel.
Nevertheless it shines at the struck of the sun.
Quiet and filled with none.

As it flows it leaves no step behind.
Though its cold.
It shows you your path to find.
Productive as it, its still old.

From generations to generations its still, still.
Fishers beckon on it for their stomach fill.
Species plentiful in it.
Coming from the creators wit.

With the birds looming.
Their faces gloomy.
Their voices shrill.
Shows you natures will.