The Heart of the Ocean

The heart of the ocean

is not the wave—

it is the pause before it rises,

the breath held by the moon

just before letting go.

It lives where blue turns eternal,

where light forgets its name

and silence becomes a language

only the soul can hear.

There, time loosens its grip.

Currents kneel in devotion,

salt remembers every body

that ever wept into the world,

and nothing is lost—

grief is carried, not erased.

The ocean’s heart loves without edges.

It gathers what falls—

broken ships, broken prayers,

the soft ache of longing

that never learned how to leave.

Storms may scar the surface,

but beneath them

the heart keeps rhythm—

a low, endless hymn

teaching water how to endure

without turning to stone.

If you place your ear

against the night,

against your own chest,

you will hear it—

that ancient, tidal knowing

that love is deepest

where it is unseen,

and strongest

where it is still.