Grant me your blessings, O Muses, glorious daughters of Zeus above
That my words be heard, that my voice be clear.
Dear Poseidon, Zeus-below-the-waves
Beloved by the sailors, riding about on their water-steeds
Dreaded, too, as they clutch to their bucking mounts.
By Your will the oceans give forth their generous bounty.
By Your will the sea reaches up and claims her due.
Great, Shining Poseidon.
You saw me as I stood on the edge, looking ever forward across the waves,
young and only half-knowing as I stood in the sand, calmed by the gentle water, soothed by the small, tender waves.
But gentle water turned to storm, and like an unknowing bystander swept to sea by crashing, slamming, towering waves,
Your presence poured over me.
Your warmth surrounded me.
Your demands pulled me into the raging water.
A choice then: to fight the raw power of the storming seas, to pit myself against it all,
To break myself against your will like that bystander dashed to the rocks.
Or better, to submit, to ride where the waves might take me, to surrender to the pull of Your tide.
Sweet Poseidon, beloved Poseidon,
All the world is a tempest
And You are my safe harbor.