I Must Go Down to the Sea

I must go down to the seas again, to the lonely sea and the sky,
And all I ask is a tall ship and a star to steer her by,
And the wheel’s kick and the wind’s song and the white sail’s shaking,
And a grey mist on the sea’s face and a grey dawn breaking.

I must go down to the seas again, for the call of the running tide
Is a wild call and a clear call that may not be denied;
And all I ask is a windy day with the white clouds flying,
And the flung spray and the blown spume, and the sea-gulls crying.

I must go down to the seas again, to the vagrant gypsy life,
To the gull’s way and the whale’s way where the wind’s like a whetted knife;
And all I ask is a merry yarn from a laughing fellow-rover,
And quiet sleep and a sweet dream when the long trick’s over.

- John Masefield

This says it all.  I love the ocean.  I NEED the ocean.  It grounds me.  It's vast, wild and untamable, especially at the Outer Banks - graveyard of thousands of shipwrecks over the years.  The ocean is always there, it never stops; it feeds every sense: the sound of the waves, the smell of the salt and sea life, the beautiful views of water, sunrises and birds, the touch of the warm sand, the cold waves and sea spray and the salty taste of the water.  I love this place. 

Seamus agrees, but for other reasons: