Upon this shingle beach I rest,
Reclined beside my own thoughts,
Healing from the worlds hurts,
Being renewed in the saline spray,
Breath of the sea,
Yet above the collapsing waves,
A sombre tune swims to my ears,

A sad symphony of baleen chorus,
The echoing voice of a lonely titan,
Aural tears,
She has been on a pilgrimage for far too long,
Crossing faultlines as melancholic images cross her minds eye,
Chanting a hymn of a deeper blue hue than even the deep itself,
I feel her pain as the song arrives upon the waves,

It strikes me not as a romantic sorrow,
But a family lost,
Her song tells of harpoons and red thrashing bubbles,
A young life cruelly seized and a mother broken,
Each moan a maternal dirge,
I count my blessings amongst the land,
And wonder if the swell itself is her tears.

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