I am the
ocean. You are fascinated by my depth and my
emptiness, but you are too afraid to
plunge in deep and learn more about me. You float in the shallows and
say you love my salty tears, you love my
waves, you love the beautiful shells I churn
out. You
are aware that there are monsters deep with in me,
but you make no attempt to try and find them; you make
no attempt to see them face-to-face. You are
happy in your ignorance, and I wrap
myself around you as you frolic in the beauty of my surface and
ignore the horrors you know are
there. I kiss you like I
kiss the shore line, pulling
away but always rushing back. You ignore the fact
that I swallow the light every night, and
I am controlled
by the ever-changing
moom. You do not know everything about me, but
maybe that's for the
best. Knowledge would not be
power in this case; knowledge would suck you into the
inky depths of my madness and cause you to
drown. I am the ocean and you
are simply a tourist; you are not an
explorer. I do not blame you for
this one bit.
KDR