Just Oh yes! It’s an ocean. The Pacific to be specific. Like every ocean it has its Wizard of Oz ways. Crashing and splashing and beating its chest against some withered rocks. Dig deep enough and the ocean is just a dance of hydrogen and oxygen locked in an eternal embrace. Oh, but what a dance! Yet in a small corner, Where white priviledge resides, Off the California coast, At Cypress Point to be exact. Well there, the ocean is just for art. A fluid frame hugging the sculpted landscape, A vision of a creative young white man Built for the elite but somehow humble at it's core. For all the values I precariously cling I realize we humans are just the current product of an evolutionary system. So somehow this sacred land, This magical painting part and apart from the ocean, Rises beyond fairness and inequality And gives me no choice but to just breathe in the beauty.