Oceans Unglorified

I think it has something to do with being
Born on an island.
The way that the ocean calls
To those who love it,
Not for the romanticized image
That dreamers fool themselves with,
But for itself.
It has never known clear, emerald green waters,
But H2O that is a cloudy blue-gray
With whitecaps.
Some would have you believe that ocean breeze
Is delicately perfumed.
I find nothing delicate about eau de salt
And rotting seaweed.
But the ocean does call with crashing waves
And screaming gulls.
It roars "Do not admire my beauty,
be in awe of my power,
and enticed by my size."
Because when you think about it,
Columbus didn't sail the Atlantic so that he
Could paint pictures.