Song of the Waves, Poe and by C.C. poetry now. Only the waves with all their messages flow in calmness. Calmness in which we throw all turmoil. Ever upon wave is cast, helpless into a depth of calm. As our motion splinters the helm, helpless on granite rock. So our turmoil, our restlessness, our busyness, our fixed time consciousness splinters before us. How vast is our calm, accepting, enveloping, consuming and still we flow. Silent, open, a perfect mirror. Where we see all mysteries, where we see only self. Our complexity of relation, mingling, co-mingling as one. What words can we place on such mystery? What force can ruffle our depths? Holder of secrets reveal to us our song, our mystery we would know, our song we sing. Even when our storm breaks with all force, our heart is calm, our heart is constant. We see beneath the depths of rage of sorrow, our smile, our laughter, free of pretence. We know the illusion of passing ferocity, of endless forms moving ceaselessly forward, sifting and sorting surfaces. In storm, in still, we watch our activities swimming within and around us. How can we safe our well? Waves flowing shores ever present, knowing no beginning, no end, one generation after another rising, falling, all with changing appearances, all inseparably linked. Song of the waves incessantly sounding saturates sea, earth and sky. I'm faddened in light of inner sun we plumb all hidden depths. Our voices of voice of many waters, roar throughout all. Waves transcending self, we sow your shores and find, we are just where we are, here, everywhere, paradoxically nowhere, we are all in all, round about all. Baved in wisdom, in joy, we have nowhere to seek, having always already arrived, one with infinite sea, ocean of light, life of love, you have become me.