Born to Die
Waves that roll gently onto an empty shore,Wash clean the pebbles and the sand,Whilst white foam bubbles, markingAn evaporating monument to journey's end.Freely dancing on the open water,Light, from the sleepy harbour, reflectsAs the facets of a cut jewel glistenInto the gem cutter's eye.No mourners in melancholic song,Lament the sea's daily demise.No memorial service convened,As the tide slows, then dies.Bright blue waters of the day,Dress somberly in the pitch of night,Respecting those already lost,Sympathy for those who will die.Soft lapping, knocking, against the moored craft,In a vain hope to stir even one human tear,Only Poseidon speaks the eulogy of thoseWaves that roll gently onto an empty shore.