The Unfathomable Ocean Poem by Rajaram Ramachandran

Oh, Ocean! You mighty Ocean!
Why you've so much of passion,
For this globe, you hug, so tight,
To erode this land, left and right?

Who tailored you so well,
To suit your level as you swell,
As you keep this earth afloat,
For the sake of our comfort?

Mighty rivers into you flow,
Their surplus waters, row by row,
Still they quench not your thirst,
Nor take the heat off your breast.

You own a rich seabed,
Yet you've tears to shed,
That sink into the darkest clouds,
To fall back into thirsty rivers.

You maintain, in depth, silence,
Also make your shore full of noise,
With your endless roaring waves,
That ebb and tide, across.

All the sands the rivers dump,
Never let your level go up,
Nor all the heat, let by the sun,
Push your level down.

Your wavy fingers touch my feet,
To kindle my feelings, in retreat,
Little I guess o'er your submission,
Perhaps, an act of your veneration.

You are still growing in timeless age,
With full of treasures for pillage,
O'er the loss of riches, you never grieve,
But give this earth all you've.

Could this earth, ever green be,
Sans your mercy and glee,
While you swallow the heat of the sun,
To cool the breeze for every one.

You build this beach, sand by sand,
With your mile long wavy hand,
For us to sit and watch you do,
Restless in your coat of blue.

A silver coat, you borrow from the moon,
To thrill the hearts and minds of men,
To enchant a pair of love birds,
Deep into their merry dreamlands.

Your corridors obey Godmens' will,
To save their men from kill,
The brunt of wars, you silently bore,
Harboring all the frigates ashore.

Your crowning glory lies near the poles,
Where you play different roles,
Also far below unfathomable depth,
Where one is sure of facing death.

In your empire, is there any explosion,
In the size of fish population,
Also of other countless creatures,
That live in your roofless shelters?

You mind not our dirty pollution,
But give us your full protection,
Besides food, water and occupation,
In the cross country trade and communication.

Millions of years I may need,
Your books for me to read,
And cover all the pages,
That have surpassed many ages.