the young girl and the sea

Deep in the abyss it slumbers,
heavy, black, immense -
so still.
Slowly heaves, slowly undulates,
wider than nations,
deeper than thought,
ponderous and ancient.
Rising, spreading, growing,
burdens slipping away,
sucking in life from the tangy air -
it roars, and feels its strength.
Shifting and surging,
ever changing, unchangeable,
thundering its own mighty echoes
to the empty sky,
swelling to meet the clouds,
to embrace them and change them
and send them back
in vapors.
Raucous under violent skies,
crashing, divided,
a cacophany of powers
at war over nothing,
pounding and shredding,
it falls back at last,
unhurt.
Quiet, then, under furling reflections
of bluest sky,
the journey's length finds an object,
solid foundations,
and thrills at its nearness.
The rocky, sandy floor rises gradual,
tossing crowded waters into the air,
speeding on exuberant,
foaming, spraying, thundering
with joy uncontainable,
rolling over and over themselves
in ecstasies of liberty -
to spread themselves
at last,
hissing,
grateful,
humble,
spent across the sand,
prostrate at the feet of a girl.
A girl with a tan rubber heart,
rolled-up jeans and windy hair,
dipping raisin toes in the edge of the deep,
side-stepping back clumsy
when it races in to meet her.
Her tan rubber heart
looks out across forever,
feels the waves crash against it,
one by one,
surging out of the deep, forever,
falling back dripping,
coming again.
She stands on the edge of it and looks,
touches it, tastes it,
and scratches her knee,
and spits out a grain of sand.
What a piece of work is man,
the playwright knew.
Tousled, stumbling, a passing voice,
dust held together with invisible hands,
yet deathless,
a mirror of eternity,
made to magnify the One
that formed the deep from nothing,
and filled it,
and sends it charging with homage
to its inexplicable master,
and smooths it meekly
at her sandy, anointed feet.