Papery thin and just as easily crumpled
Surf ties shore to violent sea.
The poignant line, a delicate Balance
(She has fumbled for eaons to advance)
To sew the border neat and clean.
Some spontaneous misbehaved sands
Always seem to disfigure her lines
So that neither land nor sea hold hands
Perfectly. The scale tips for the infinitieth time.
Who triumphs in this meandering climb?
The sheer cliffs of Dover, the
Jagged coasts of rock and tide,
Slipping piece by piece (from waves crashing over)
As do the soft and gentle beaches wide.
Waves ceaselessly battering her handiwork,
Every moment of time.
She's remarkably calm as her children berserk
Tear and romp through her crafty needlework.
For she knows her art is a heinous crime
And silence is her golden gauntlet of wine.
Neither the Universe, matter, energy, nor Time
Respect the uniqueness of her kind.
YOU ARE READING
Musings: A Poetry Compilation
PoetryPoetry and prose for the poets out there eager to get their helpings of more and more of the written page...because there is never enough ink to satisfy the soul.
