The Sands of Time

Raging midnight waves of temper hit the grey sand The battered shore, ever-submissive Like the mouth to anger Words, ragged rocks, role back and forth Taken by the persistent frothy current Emerging relentlessly from the indigo depths. Imminent storms lurk on the close horizon The water litters jagged dialogue on the fatigued shore A raging wind carries the dirt of spiteful utterances Dropping russet grime along the coast. Yet through the clouds A pearl-tinted dove emerges Now comes the warm glow of consciousness Pink, morning yellow light The churning waters are soothed With the remembrance of virtue Beams of white illuminate the joy, Bubbling up from below the water’s surface. A breeze Wistful, but not naïve Sprinkles the shore with pure precipitation Rinsing the seaside clear of muck The warm dawn sunlight gently rises Requesting forgiveness for the nighttime rage The shore surrenders to the pleasant coos That the current is now bringing forth The sand provides pardon Upon the repentant tide.