The ocean is endless,
Just like its secrets,
The secrets it’s never told,
But heard through passion,
Through the tears and cries of the benign souls,
Like indistinguishing voices,
In the wind that crashes and calls for the ocean to tell,
To tell the loquacious epics,
But it will never slip the blurry words,
It will cry and mingle with its waves,
Spraying those with understanding,
For those who stand next to the ocean feel its humbleness,
Feel like a small but important piece in the puzzle of life,
They say the ocean can take your fears and drown them in its depth,
Sense you in its presence,
And make you spur a thousand emotions without even saying a word,
But I cannot tell you these things are true,
For I have never seen or felt the ocean by my side,
I have in my dreams, in my bold thoughts,
But never in reality,
But reality isn’t all that significant, is it?
The last line is interesting. Reality is like a bucket of cold water to wake one up in life.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
I have something to say about your comment, Joe, reality it only a bucket of cold water if you believe it is...