Tides

Its the push, the pull, the unending roll. in me, in the sea. unsettled unabated with directionless pulse following every and not a single course. Power sleeps in the bossum fed and drained in unabating continuum awaiting the flood when the dry terrain will be quenched the cracked and breathless feilds will once again thrive. The time will come, the flood will have its day in the sun