Atlantic

The rocks, the driftwood, the purple fragments of shells, the colorful and vastly variated pebbles and stones, the water . . . cold, salty, mighty Atlantic. I have but seen its fringes, only felt a finger’s touch, have not beheld its vast expanse. Yet these waters are the same that rush and leap and bound and roar, that carry great vessels in their arms, that foam and spray on sailors’ faces, and cover many a faceless grave. These waters storm and billow, then return to rest. This ocean teems with life, and gives to men rich resources. Untamed, unpredictable, dangerous and breathtaking. This is the Atlantic.