The painful circulation of deadly schemes,
its catapulting crime that denies dreams;
Lost from view when vaporized and shattered,
leaving merely shards of seashells scattered.

Left alone to contemplate the surging tides,
while the sea envelops mindfulness of pride;
Studying each mood that swings in random,
awakening as the beach's fearsome phantom.

In vacant eyes' disquieting adventures,
caressing lengths of dusky evening's pleasures;
The circle bound to saintly words discovers,
a swirling of the ocean's waves recovered.

Alas, no hope to gather heaven's grace,
to set upon this hapless time and place;
Futility embarks with countless measures,
as crazed and cowered spirits cast off treasures.

Then basking in the light of all that's chosen,
the movement of the waters tightly frozen;
Roundabout on high the gulls proclaim,
that life begins and ends without disdain.