Title2

Cooling off, persistent tides of frothing foam
Of seas to crash on cliffside stone.
Winds of change heating up regardless.
Global warming and the like- I acquiesce.

The ocean prays to each coast.
A thousand years to erode
The memory. Hope like the stars
Constellations out of reach.
A distant galaxy
Exalted in the manifold of time.

I but a wave toiling in this fever heat
I've made the wrong choice
And now I’m Weak
A sirens song. A charming voice

To crash on sands vast and coarse
Far greater than myself.
Repelled totally.
I do not wish nor cannot conquer,
but merely seek cove to harbor
or grain to hold.

So that in time I might collect ten thousand grains to dry me out-
To toil beneath the sun no longer.