The waves of the sea flow unknowingly
Where graceful ships once sailed
Where swimming backs glistened in setting sun
Where dolphins and turtles swam
And still the waves come.
The waves have no memories
Not like the land and the sea-floor
Memories can’t be written in the waves -
Like they are in the rock -
Or strewn across the water
Like they are in the sandy bed of the ocean
And still the waves come.
The ocean keeps her secrets below the surface
Men get caught up in their reflections
While beneath lies something greater
In the shallows or the depths
More mysteries are hidden
Than the ever-undulating surface tells
And still the waves come.
Near the white sand shallows
Of a palm speckled beach
Of a palm speckled beach
Lies a secret there for any to see
Anyone who looks deeper
And has an aluminum lung
And still the waves come.
Past a carpet of timid garden eels
And schools of shimmering jacks
And flashing barracuda
Is the waves’ hulking secret
Weighed down by bright orange fans of coral
And the black, yellow and green of feather stars
It is the wreck
And still the waves come.
What was once a ship, now a secret garden
Flowing soft corals and multicoloured hard corals
Darting gobies and ponderous groupers
Fish of every colour on a painter’s pallet
Grazing turtles
And slowly patrolling sharks
Tired out from a night’s hunting.
And still the waves come.
This secret garden
This Atlantis beneath forgetful waves
Is hardly touched by man and rarely seen
An oasis in the underwater desert
And still the waves come.
But if you go where the waves can’t remember
And where the storms have long passed
Where the turtles and the white-tips roam
You will see a slice of Eden
Buried from man forever
Beneath waves with no memory
And still they come.
