Catharsis of the Spray

I shall write an ode one day, To my lord of the eternal spray, When I can no longer walk the shore, When I cannot endure the heat, Of children starving in the street, And I can no longer bear to hear, The screams of spirits, loved ones dear, And in my ode, I shall ask, What workman could have forged the glass to block the darkest light from fright, Maligning my air, my stars, my night? What engineer could be so skilled, To devise a foam so potent in form, Clearing waste of human storm, The day comes, the sea and I shall be one, And I sing my ode as devoted son, Waiting with kindred until child prays, For our cartharsis of the spray.