By these waves is chaos-in-waiting.
So for that sylph, hold back no words in caressing.
Crests and troughs retreat from white foam to the shade of black glass.
And if the wind grants your wish for a pirouette, never let it pass.
At times, nothing stirs from illusory solidity.
Breathe the liquid in: a chance to know truth in clarity.
If cold bites, your corporeal cask can never be enough.
Resistance is a choice, but do you really want to seem tough?
And while full of folly and pain, that ceremonial setting out to sea,
The abyss is for those, who even by the shores, never tried to be.
