Waves roll in with a hush and a sigh, Salt on the breeze, a low distant cry. Shells whisper secrets from deep below, Foam hisses soft where the gray waters go.
Gulls call above in a circling flight, Wind carries echoes through endless night. The ocean speaks in its ancient tongue, Rhythm of tides that have always sung.
A steady pulse in the dark and the light, Calling you back to its endless might.