An ocean is a terribly complex beauty. 

 

Its surface is lively and free.

It takes no orders to thee. 

It beats to its own drum.

It is unpredictable to some. 

It exerts electrical currents ever-so tender. 

 

These are the gifts it holds.

These are its colors of gold. 

These are its treasures truly told.

 

Its interactions--heeling.

Its being--compelling. 

Its words--overwhelming. 

Its destiny--excelling. 

To all those who see it as a supper being. 

 

These are the gifts it holds.

These are its colors of gold. 

These are its treasures truly told.

 

However, its monsters within are alarming.

It is indeed self-harming.  

The sharks--chilling. 

The octopus--poisoning. 

The jellyfish--stinging. 

These are all the enemies of its charm and beauty. 

 

Those who discover its "flaws" are dumbfounded at the capability of its torture.

 

Those who appreciate even its sickening capacity suffer by its absence of trust. 

 

These are the gifts it holds.

These are its colors of gold. 

These are its treasures truly told.

That are alive in me.