On this beach I stand watching and waiting,
a storm is brewing in darkening skies above,
the wind chases the tide forming white horses,
that gallop towards the jagged rocks of this shoreline,
these equine embodiments are only to be short lived,
dispersing their bodies to form a fine white saline mist.

The intensity of this cold wind increases with restless fury,
whistling away whispering to me this is only the beginning,
now mother nature takes hold of the rain's of this tempest,
slowly whipping them up into a frenzied thunderous downpour,
the heavens display starts now becoming a violent electric show,
that does scatter lightning bolts across a surging wild sea below.

The Puffins and Gulls have found shelter on white cliffs that stand proud,
against this wailing wind that tears at it's chalk face then screams aloud,
for it is only mother nature that has the right to turn a bright day into night,
commanding from the elementals her bidding of old wrongs and old rights,
from a distance I see the harbour lights flicker on, to light the way,
for fisherman that ventured on this ocean on a merciless cruel day.

White foam skips rapidly to shore on the backs of black unforgiving waves,
they glide past me like the ghosts of old sailors that have drowned at sea,
now it is time to join these restless souls of the sea as I feel the cold water around my feet,
I am chained to a rock of granite as punishment for my sins and a smugglers name I'll keep.



By Christos Andreas Kourtis

By NeonSolaris
© 2008 NeonSolaris (All rights reserved)