Thursday, 1 March 2012

Rolling in the Deep

The sea is never still.
It pounds on the shore
Restless as a young heart,
Hunting.

They love the sea,
Men who ride on it
And know they will die
Under the salt of it

Let only the young come,
Says the sea.

Let them kiss my face
And hear me.
I am the last word
And I tell
Where storms and stars come from.
Young Sea by Carl Sandburg



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