The ocean: so big and powerful, constantly moving and flowing. This significance of an individual is instantly dwarfed by the vastness of a seabed. The buried treasure, the sunken ships and lost souls lurk near the ocean bottom, lost in the oblivion that is the gentle giant with a horrid temper. Does the ocean not breath? Is its population not worthy of the respect and love of a human, if not more so? With the sleepy blues and vibrant turquoise that merges with the deep navy of the ever changing tides. Deep and wide, deep and wide, this entity of unfathomable wonders and filled with the giant unknown. The heart of the earth lies not in the people or the soil but to the hidden floors of the ocean, the silent fierceness of the waves slapping the shore and then sinking away, ashamed only to once more persist its violent assault on the coastline. The sheer power and unadulterated rage that lurks in the beautiful monster is nothing to sneeze or laugh or scoff at. I’ve seen waves crash, wearing at the solid stone it attacks. It breaks down resilient stones that have held fast for centuries. The persistence of the unyielding motion, never ending, retracts-attacks, retracts-attacks, retracts-attacks, a small island, a solid foundation holds no ground when facing 100 feet waves, destruction is a tropical storm away and the ocean is the storms vindictive mistress, out for vengeance on the land that dares take the storms aggressive caress from her. Innovative machines and barely baby skyscrapers are no match for the roar of the deep blue. Hurricane shelters hold no use when they’re lying on the ocean floor. Wreckage makes for beautiful dive sites and bring about a sense of nostalgia for a time when we knew not of the ocean’s strength.