Darkness. Poem by Ripper Jones

On a cold cliff ledge I stood
and beyond the edge lay a great way down
to dank caves below
which echoed the sound of uproar
as the waves ripped the rocks
with an explosion of white foam akin to manic smoke
carving wondrous shapes against windswept sea
like clouds rent apart by lightning

I looked out upon the relentless sea
and thought of the primordial abyss
of the waveless deep
far far down where a hidden world of alien creatures
lived their unknowing lives to unknown deaths
no tombs for them no sarcophagi
no epitaph carved in cemetery words
most times the one memory to the white bones beneath
which nourish the earth and begets new life
which itself finds death and joins the stars.