Poetic Narrative:

The ancient ones will whisper tales of open seas,

Of deep blue clears and sunlight spears.

The ancient ones will whisper tales of salted freedom,

And of roaming reefs.

They’ll fill you with amazement and awe,

And have you brimming bright with wonderment light.

The ancient ones will whisper tales of oceanic balance,

Of a world of harmony and respectful symbiosis.

But now as they glide past with a synchronicity of form,

With personal experience and character marking their beautiful bodies,

They whisper differently.

Now the ancient ones will whisper tales,

Of greedy hands, careless minds, steel blades and stolen swims.

How long shall they have to whisper?

Before we speak?

How long will it take,

To see more than fins and shiny teeth?

©Mahdhav Sarna