Ocean

Standing in the water,
Surrounded by the ocean,
I am struck by its contradictions.

Noisy.
Waves crashing to the shore,
Beating against the sand
as they release their stored power.
Like a drum beat.
The sound is unique, identifiable,
A signature sound.

Quiet.
No cell phones, no TV,
No doctors, no endos-to-be.
Only the ocean.
Even those around are made to seem quiet,
in the relentless sounds of the water.

Constant.
Wave after wave,
the rhythm never changes.
The ocean is always where we left it.
Its power and its force never end,
Never alter.
One can find comfort in its predictability.

Changing.
The color of the water
Is a reflection of the light, the sand,
Sometimes green, sometimes blue,
A brilliant silver in the full moon.
Sunset turning it a delicate peach.
At times the power of the waves is almost hidden,
when the surface is smooth.
After a storm the whitecaps are like jagged teeth,
biting through the water.
It can be a gentle brush on the shore,
or a horrendous, frightening power.
Unpredicatable.

Have you ever noticed
that the ocean shares many characteristics
with its creator?
Never silent -- pushing, shoving.
And yet sometimes almost seeming to be silent,
whispering, leaving room for doubt.
Constant, never changing.
Always where we left Him,
when we come home.
Never the same,
Our understanding of Him
Grows, making more questions,
As we find more answers,
Until we understand so much,
that nothing is as we understood.

Images: First, the -- uh -- ocean (rather obviously); Second, a palm tree and the moon; Third, full moon over the ocean.