Like a mere conch holds the depths of the ocean,
A mere arrangement of bones holds the racket of the heart.
The depths of the ocean, so deep, so unexplored,
Ache for life, ache for a fearless one-
Who would brave the unending depth.
It holds the deep, deep sound of a hundred storms,
A hundred rains, a hundred drowns,
But it also holds the chords,
Of a gentle breezy day,
And the din of a warm winter night.
It holds the secrets of the corals,
Whispering in their hushed tones,
And plays home to millions more.
It is the epitome of the deep sea,
All packaged in a little white padlock,
Which is unfastened,
Every time someone looks deep within,
And hears the rippling of the core.
