The sea, its expanses, the sea and its shores. The sea softly hissing amid sails, amid boats. Endless blue horizon: you can swim to the sky where, among constellations, the eternal is nigh. The sea softly singing with the music of spheres; the sea with its swinging while we sink, while we die. The sea and its promise; the sea and its howl of cruel time slowly cradled and asleep on a towel. The sea with its algae, with its salt and its sand, the smell of its lotions and the sunburn and tan. The sea and its furnace of lapis lazuli, the sea and its cool coves, the sea, you, and me. The sea, calm and patient; the sea full of wrath. The sea almost sentient, the sea wipes our path. Brimming with our debris, the sea drowns itself in its crimson sunsets; the sea’ll wake again. The sea and its warships, the sea and its shells. The sea eats up sailors that will never return, strong men going under empty netfuls, no urn. The sea and its whaling, its fish and its catch, the sea and its promise. To its might we're no match. The sea lures the lovers on its beaches at dusk. White shirts flap on broad chests with the odor of musk. The squall has died down now; the sea and its hull will once again stir us, irresistible lull.