Yeah I know I misspelled it 
From Terry Maas' Bluewater Hunters.
Great Mother Ocean brought forth all life, it is my eternal home.
But I have been gone into strange worlds so long..
countries without currents, countries without tides, countries without depth.
I have forgotten how to live in the world that created me.
I can no longer breathe the water.
I am slow and I am clumsy, I have lost my grace.
But the deep indigo of the depths calls me like a loving mother..
return to the depths, return to the source, return to your nature.
Sometimes, beneath the shimmering surface of my memory,
I sense the deeper memories of generation after generation of hunters.
For tens of thousands of years I have kept a faithful record of my hunting,
so the children of my children’s children will know and remember.
And more permanent than any painted stone..
is the memory that lies at the heart of my every cell,
the memory of my hunting, the history of my tribe.
And when I wake beneath the modern sky,
full of smoke and sound,
as from a dream I believe I lost my way back.
For I cannot forget I am a hunter
and I am from a race of hunters
and there is no place for hunters in this time.
:bottomup::pot2: :thumbsup2: