the ocean wave has carried us into your presence;
our helplessness promises love’s renascence.
we can’t see you, but we feel your furious mood:
the grace and blast of great spirit has condensed.
violent rain pounds the angry rolling horizon;
we are lost in our tossing boat without defense.
our blood throbs with a rocking sea borne motion,
our still brain has been beaten into common sense:
there is no god but god, and he is the lord of death:
we raise our hands in praise of the raw and immense.
our aching eyes have been purified by your salt;
the courageous heart is washed clean of all pretense.
with each breath we die to the succession of the next;
darvish cries like a bawling baby in consequence.