Ode to the waters

Ocean of emotion, sea of solitude.
The eponyms are many, yet so are the layers to his self.
The waters are deep, silent and calm on the surface,
With a gentle breeze that masks the dark undercurrents within.
Yet there are days when the tempests rage,
Waters white with anger, engulfing the unlucky ones that strayed too far.
Maybe there are islands of mirth, of swaying palms hidden within his self,
Or whirlpools that draw you in, drowning you within those depths.