To My Mother the Sea.

To sea! To sea!–My Ship to sea! From far distance candle lit towers of Spain to mirage gifted, lifted, isles of peace. All her treasures, secrets, ghost remain-- as her power and magnificence increase. Hurricanes sling about her belt, ice draped about her poles. Every extreme of time, space, sight, sound, and depth; even more remains unknown. No flower blooms, its breath un-blown to fill a salty misty air-- no Hummingbird backs, bends or bows she calls to hearts, hearts to hear, this sea, this sea forever there. I pray my soul so feels to care. When death strikes and quits my hand give to her my soul to keep, plant me not on hard dry land for in her spirit I can sleep. If God is father, this sea shall be-- My mother! My mother! My Ship to sea!