Tides are tiresome, tedious things. Those that tell of tranquility and tantalizing thrill speak truant truths, for tides may be such things, yet the tepid waters present timely change in an untimely manner.
Imagine an inclining tide, climbing rock face with the moon. Instinct says it is insurmountable and inescapable. It terrifies.
Down it goes again, as the moon dives down to the other face of the Earth. Tides are change. Change is a dance of direction in which the dancer has none.
Earth is ever-changing and evermoving and ethereal. The ethereal only ever end engulfed in entropy. Entropy is the effect of the human quest for ecstasy without empathy.
Still, perhaps, tides surely are stunning in their scintillation. The soulful and sad seek sorrow all too often. Perhaps that which is sinister does not have to be so.
