A casual sunny ray pierces through dark clouds.

The wind causes the surf to foam.

A stormy petrel cries piercingly.

The ship undulates and expects the storm.

The rocks - a chain, rusted from the seaweed-

prepare themselves for the collision.

The waves - blue deep with a crown of foam -

race with time.

And the ship - with sails like wings of a sea gull -

dances with the wind.

The masts bend like reeds.

The deck creaks threateningly.

The sails flap in the wind with strident sound.

Where is the captain?

The breath of the storm saturates the air.

The waves lave the tops of the rocks.

The sea promulgates the beginning with a roar.

…

The sea - it is just a post card with a sea landscape  

behind a small ship, made of sea shells and mussels.