It is a graceless state to begin with,
one where metric beat seizes pride of place,
before mind contends with the frantic pace
of rhythmical words tumbling off a cliff.
Natural thought ablates in the anarchy
of gushing water and order concedes
to new disorder, while flooding stream breeds
contempt until it is absorbed by sea.
And in the mind of ocean we will find
tranquillity of space to amble in
beyond the banks confining courses free,
no cause to loiter or to look behind,
no currents drive, no need to gamble in
despair for motives already lost at sea.
© 28 January 2008, I. D. Carswell