The Old, Dark Sea

More than the lashing fury of its fringe
On jagged coast, or the harsh brutality
Of surface storms, when scattered, lost flotillas,
Battered and broken, tried to reassemble,
More than its random, mad, destructive orgies,
Frenzied yet cold, it was another scene,
A peaceful scene, the smoothly quiet water
Heaved on a giant swell, a half-seen form
Glimpsed far below in huge, slow-moving power,
The sheer dimension of its rise and fall
Awakening memories, the ancient tales
Of mountainous, rearing heads and fearsome teeth
Like jagged rocks in great ship-crunching jaws,
That made the nightmare deep, the old, dark sea,
A model for the darkness in the mind.

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