The morphing an ever-developing tide;
wherefore they presume they can capture it in
but one name? Every season, every era,
are all unique to the proceeding;
yet they want consistancy, a rock,
a castle, the 'eternal' ocean;
Immortality.

However, even thyself, the ocean, am changing.
With every zephyr, every lunar circuit,
every volumnessly violent circulonimbus,
assembles me anew than 'gainst.
Therefore names mean nothing.
I never was the ocean and never will be.

I am nothing but everything.

What of me? they say. Every flicker
of life named cell comes and goes,
and even the flame itself is made
of the particles of existance;
Which ebs and flows itself.
Religions, policies and habits, thought
to be eternal will even evolve
and adapt themselves. And based
on their theorem, what seperates
man and beast? beast and plant?
plant and earth? Few more
thought-meats, few less green,
few less mutations.

Existance itself will not be eternal,
as it is already changed from writing
to reading.


Woe, Woe, Woe,
Oh Sea, why the suffering, the ecstasy,
and the exquisite pain of this accursed world?
Wherefore the arrogance, ignorance, doubt,
fear, struggle, grief and mortality,
of this world?

Woe, Woe, Woe,
I say,

Why the beauty in this world?

How does thee expect any magnificence
without the woe?
If I, 'the ocean', were the universe,
you are all waves.
You cannot experience the peaks,
without the troughs inbetween;
and if a wave has no peaks or troughs,
a wave is flat, or, a wave is not.
Therefore to exist, the highs and lows must also.
For truth, all must be waves.