Life is one long ocean strand

just touched by the horizon.

It surges, swells, and dips like dells,

and presses ever skyward.

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Reaching shores unrecognized,

it slaps against a castle

then swishing foam, retreating home,

it heads for open water—

where whirling wind betrays the calm

in gusts and squalls and lightning,

and ships toss up then swelling down

in violence unabating–

 sheets of ice spears split the screen

Of grey and gusty water.

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And then, Pacific calm—

stretched out upon the water.

The gleaming glint of liquid fire

reflected dying sun.

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And borne along by endless wind,

the slowly chop of waves

that journey on, all undeterred

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to catch the bright horizon.

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