The sound of waves which drift in the sea,

beauteous with schools of fish
circulate vast marines
going places, humans have yet to discover.

Marines are stunning,

they always were.

Our obligation to make it thrive
like bees which serve queens in hives

gathering honey from one flower to another
without cowering when humans pluck them or catch them in dire places.

Oceans repose as if a child wailing silently,
tears gush,
but not a voice comes out incredulously.

Serene that even the bird's silence
when they pass by for a sip of water,
even when salt tasted good.

Blue, that the feelings of despair go away

to be encumbered,
in the waves that swayin motionless appetite
for cleanliness it contains.

A surge comes forward,
seemingly green in the ocean splashing it not so clean,
the green waves never gleamed

but murked the waters to brown and gray repulsive a sight
aroma that seemed rot of foods

The look of your parents
revolted with your failures,
the feeling of inner dismay
I couldn't try to see through it deeper.

Keep her,
the ocean,
pristine,
they said.

Humans nod,
but did they understand what bread?
Most ran the others quit,
beauty contained no more

but it was still water not that countenance bred of beauty
as I stood closer,
they were floating bodies.

Had humans been the green surge?
Their eyes are like your siblings
whenever sad yet blank at the same.

It was not them,
but a monster
made the point to excruciate the pain.

I dug out of the water to find it clean and neatly tidied.

The monster,
my mind knew the problem.

What had to be done
yet still swam far beyond,
right after returning home
without the idea it was to be true.

Our hearts don't desire what our minds see-through