In every man the calming of the sea does lie,
Beneath his rush and worried day within a quiet eye,
Which peers into the onward flow of crystal glass,
He waited patiently the elevator stops to pass,
And quiet in his plodding steps along the street,
Bustling with the tapping rush of hustling feet,
He made a steady pace towards source of ocean blue,
The taste of which he found between two cubes,
Cold and clean and every sip reflected studied thought,
Of what the day of toils did gain, and what his labors bought.
In every man the waves must crest and tumble down,
And back into the foaming blue return like beaten hounds.