verbiage
There's always too much to write about when it comes to the moon and the ocean. The push and pull between the two, how she waxes and wanes, how he remains even when she hangs dark in the sky. He looks to the heavens as she looks to the earth, but every so often they both find the line of the horizon.
Once upon a time there was a human, and they gazed out at the sea. "Water," they said. They looked up at the clouds. "Air." They named the world around them, and taught others to do the same. One day they looked at the human who kept them warm at night, and didn't know what to say. Their human whispered a new word, and it surrounded them, now a part of the elements.
Sometimes the current of the sea runs cold. The water cycles through the ice of the north and south poles, bringing it as close to the equator as time will allow. But wherever the current ends up, moonlight still ripples across its waves on a clear night. This is a bond that cannot break.
Time continues. The humans make more words and refine how to use them. As the world turns there is life and death and warmth found in the darkness, over and over again. Many things change. This does not.
About eighty percent of the ocean remains undiscovered, but the moon can see further into the depths of the waters than she'll admit. There are secrets hidden at the floor of the sea, but every so often the way down is completely clear. He knows what's down there. He knows her gaze has pierced far enough to find the answers to many mysteries. But she is patient enough to watch and let those remain unspoken.
At the end of it all, there is us. The stories written in our DNA tell of Viking voyages along the coasts, of storms weathered and beasts conquered. Our breed is a fearless one. Loyalty like iron. Desire burning through us beyond the third degree. At night we fall asleep under the stars to the sound of the waves, the elements surrounding us with whispers than come from millennia ago.
We name it. Or don't. The moon and the ocean know the truth, either way.