Sand Poem by Rovert Nworb

An only whim,
To which the tides flow,
Upon distant shores
Washing up beasts
And sucking away the sand
The cliffs rot
And fall to the floor
Scattered remains
Of years of wind rain
Washed to the sky
To be rained down again
An unpredictable latitude
Where rumors sink the ships
And mutilation is their guide
Sailing upon
The unholy tides
Effected by their universe
Someplace deep and alone
Tired and grown
To its maximum limit
And cloned to death