I see a wide cerulean expanse of ocean
under the cyan light of endless sky;
though all may not be as it seems -

The ocean appears calm and serene
from where I stand, miles distant,
yet surely there are voids and tunnels,
rocks and coral remnants of once-vital reefs
that teemed with tropical fish in variegated hues;
stripped bare now by greedy harvesting,
global waters warming, by too many reaching,
overreaching, to capture what they can
before it is all gone;

I wonder at this general state of lack in people,
Why not perceive abundance and plenty instead?
Why not feel the fertility of possibility,
the enough-to-share,
the enough-to-seed-re-generation?

What in our human design compels some
to elbow others in the face,
simply to consume first?
Are we really like tiny box turtles
in the pet-store aquarium my child-self watched
endlessly with fascination;
clunking and climbing on one another’s backs,
hoping to secure freedom, only to slide
against glass walls and collapse back down
into the pile from which we were trying to escape?

And yet - The ocean keeps breathing.
The sky does not abandon its blue.
Seeds lie hidden in ash and stone, waiting
for the right touch of rain. I have seen reefs revive
when left alone long enough to rest, fish return
in shimmering schools, and the sea itself sing
her resilience through the tide’s unceasing rhythm;

Perhaps we are not only the scrambling turtles;
Perhaps we are also the ones who learn to pause,
to steady, to share the shell of the world
with reverence;

Looking out the window, I am reminded:
abundance is not a theory,
but a law of the living Earth;
She restores herself again and again,
if only we let her, and remember how to live
in her perpetually-cycling wonders.

 

Nishimura Bay ~ bj 2025