Poseidon, lord of the darkest sea-depths,
lord of the crashing surf, your hair wet with brine,
your eyes cold and blue, keen as winter waters,
you hold in your hands the life of the sailor,
through fair weather or foul you guide ships to safety
or ravage them with waves. Within your domain
we live only by your goodness and forbearance;
with ease do you lay waste to great cities, do you
shake the earth till the works of men crumble.
You raise the four great winds, you hone the rain
to a cutting edge, you turn the waters of your realm
to cruel ice. By your might do floods destroy us,
Poseidon; yours too is the deadly drought,
the hard cracked dirt that signals famine and fear.
Our lives depend on your balance, Poseidon,
on your generous heart and open hand. God of oceans,
god of the salt of life, I praise and honor you.