The majestic swell of man's empires
Can be made clear if thought of as a wave.
Waves are caused and built by the tides of the
Moon, just as cities are caused and built by
The tides of man. and just as the moon can
make tides high or low, so can the tides of
Man make us ebb or flow. but then the end
Is what we should fear. the waves tear themselves
Apart in one final mighty crash, as
We often kill ourselves in a bloody clash.
What we must ask ourselves everyday
That we continue to thrive and grow is:
How many more days will the moon cause tides,
And how many more until we all die.
The crystal water, which sparkles in the
Sun, the yellow sand, burning 'neath my feet,
The shadowy pelicans, swooping down
Into the ocean, and the swift movements
Of the sand crabs running from me: the beach.
The waves, in all their titanic glory,
tumble roughly to the sand, swallowing up whatever earthy constructions cross
their majestic path. They peak, and then head
back, to start all over again: the beach.
Of all I've seen, I love the ocean most.
I love the waves, water, and sand. and so
I know waves, water, and sand. but still I
Wonder what else I do not understand.
The crystal water sparkles in the sun.
The yellow sand burns hot beneath my feet.
The dull brown pelicans swoop overhead.
And the little crabs scurry to shelter
When I approach. All of this happens at
The beach. the waves, in all their titanic
Majesty, tumble roughly to the sand.
They speed up the gently sloping mass of
Sinking sand, and then recede, only to
Be replaced by another tumultuous
Crash, and another broken wave dashing
Up the melting surface and across the
scattered shells, again heading back, leaving
an emptiness in the sand, and my heart.