Tell me, sea.

Do you ever lament?

Do you ever grieve?

In your arms of azure and cerulean,

Have you cradled, have you caressed,

or have you only ever deceived?

Your waters are stained crimson, soiled with 

the saline tears of every tragic fate that unravels

in your merciless offense.

So tell me, O sea, tell me please,

Have you ever grieved?

Did you coax Odysseus as he descended

into a hurricane of insanity, or did you watch

silently, amused from afar,

humming along to his blinded screams?

Did you salvage the charred remains of the Titanic,

or honor those of Alexandria?

With ambrosia dripping from your ichorous lips,

Poseidon, Neptune, Njord,

tell me why they say that

the sea is beauty, ethereally refined,

when a vial of your salt houses more tears, more pain,

than everything, in time.