There was a time in which the sun, ocean and earth,
embraced deeply in a loving bond,
yet now ravaged by the plights of a domestic household,
the oceans caring hug now a violent thrash,
the suns beam of glee a blaze of heat,
the earths homy abode now tumbling down,
I, a traveler, novice to it all,
scrambled the rifts of which earth and ocean meet,
my feet twisted by the ankles and gripping the stones,
burgundy dripping from wounds unforeseen,
the products of crustaceans sabotaging my grip,
unwilling, unable to be soaked,
my feet dance a jive of doom,
tracing the stones like steps to my kingdom,
our kingdom, perhaps,
of golden sand, the vines of flora insulating us,
the lonesome crab now at peace with the land,
but that is not the focus,
for the focus is rather the trouble at hand,
the oceans spit teases me…