Waving As One

They watch me,
those frothing tips
and rolling waves.
Crashing towards slight frame,
bulbous beneath the moonlight.

Yet before the spray
can touch porcelain skin
to shatter it to pieces
back it’s pulled
by the force
of an invisible hand.

Remorse absent from desolate landscape,
as they moan their endless song
raised from the thousands crushed
beneath their merciless grasp.

Never to break the rhythm
always reaching –
never touching.

Yet I am impervious to the quick death
they offered so many others.
Instead their mouth scrape up me
licking away miniscule scraps
not missed until they’re gone.

For they are waves,
enslaved by the sea,
and I am the sand.

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