It is my temple. Where I go and dump my sorrow, Or a bountiful of happiness. Fall on my knees, And whisper a prayer. Let the waves over my body, Washing my sins. With every tide speaking I say, 'I love you too!' Few times I have said, 'I hate you too!' too. But, we communicate. A lot. And its such fun. Built of brick and concrete? No, it's too vast and sandy. Historical paintings and records? Yes, only if you have the eye for it. Sacred rooms and scriptures? No, you create them in your mind. Well, that is how my temple works, And, you all are welcome!