Keep watch against the endless sea
which always tries to overwhelm
the land and leave it senselessly
to jealousy a realm.
It will come unexpectedly,
it will a wastrel leave and you,
by plants and creatures history,
will know not what to do.
The sea no answer has to that,
returning to its own format
it leaves your grounds laid waste and flat
and you with that to look at.
Perhaps God given. Maybe not.
God made the land to get along
with rain and waters pure. You got
to look out for the sad song!
Perhaps a beach precisely it,
or cliffs, to make your point. Not vain
your pain: You must protect your wit.
Or else you get insane.
This poem is published on my site "The poetry of Vaccinius" | here |.
I have put a link to this post on the blog hop of "The Weekend Brew" | here | and of "Blessing Counting" | here |.