Motion heard from above.
The whistling of boats, the
patterns of feet sifting through
the sandy rocky ground,
these sounds are no match for your sight.
Unworthy! Oh holy length of majestic ocean,
unworthy am I to swim your distance,
I drink you in with eyes opened.
Steady, steady rhythm.
Current aimed inward,
below these cliffs I dare not call mine.
End of Land,
Beginning of Sea.