This poem was written during an amazing two weeks in Cornwall in 1975, climbing, surf canoeing, drinking and socialising. I wrote this on a wet day, sitting in a little cave overlooking Lamorna Cove, one of my favourite places. There was a long Atlantic swell running and the dark skies and steady rain turned the sea into a slowly heaving pewter coloured sheet.
 
 
Now the sea comes, magic thick
to nest us in it’s mystery
to fold us in it’s tempting wisdom
down ages deep

Now the sea comes, bright as light
to lure us to it’s wet embrace
to draw us to it’s crystal soul
down ages deep

Now the sea comes, blue as eyes
that draw a long conclusion
to a breathless, drowning kiss
down ages deep

Now the sea comes, salt as tears
like streams upon a tide-washed strand
when moon-pull proved too strong
down ages deep

Now the sea comes, full of peace
as quiet as all those sailors’ souls
that sleep long on it’s bed
down ages deep

Now the sea comes, one last time
to take him from your wanton cries
to free him from your snare
down ages deep

Then the sea came, magic thick
and took him to it’s mystery
and gave him all it’s tempting wisdom
ages deep, at home now
let him sleep
 
 
© David Hermelin 2016