The waves will beat against the shore
always.
They whip and lull me away,
wrapping me in seafoam tendrils;
always.
Tender instruments of fate, of salty blue,
jade green, and murky grey;
they take me softly and warmly,
Sometimes,
Other times harshly, burning me from within like ingested sulphur.
The waves will beat against the shore,
always.
They come at morning and
at noon and night.
In light they seem dark,
and in dark they’re light.
They come,
As they do,
To beat against the shore once more.
The waves will beat against the shore,
always.
As the transmitter of Terror,
Delight, Regret,
Relief or Distaste.
Whatever the way, they’ll keep their sway
As the waves beat against the shore
Whether sounding their purr or firing their roar.
The waves will beat against the shore,
always.
As we all lie within the sea;
some, like me,
just as content as we can be.
Others will soon find their path,
With fears that road be brought by wrath,
But it happens all the same.
The waves will beat against the shore,
And we will drift there forever more.