The ocean mass is roaring;
its ritual has again begun.
Front line crashing waves
pound hard against the sand,
telling me to beckon forward-
schloosh, hiss, schloosh-
in a tongue of taunting whispers
of their joy and wicked bemusement,
indicating it is all over for me;
there is nothing that can be done.
The ocean has won; I have lost.
My faith is as of yet decided.
Two feet stumble to stand ground
on the newly wet sand seated.
Dead water pulls downward,
drawing me quickly in;
new waves bring with them near
the water from deep depth pits:
the souls of all those who have
like myself failed to reach what they knew
and beyond what they wanted:
The souls of millions, nay, billions.
I see them, each one,
crash against the sand-
bones breaking once over,
their dreams crushed one last time
before they are sucked back
into the endless abyss of life's liquid
never to be seen again…
until the next rising of the tides, that is.
I join them, I jump in,
giving way to voluntary movement,
becoming one with the ocean.
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