Without The Sea – HEG George

The sun’s beams penetrate me, 

with fingers delving deeply beneath 

the blanket of my surface 
And the clouds rise up, as bitter as the 

moon eclipsed sun, only to fall back 

to earth, with life on the coat-tails of 

every drop 
On these benign waters rest the swimmers, 

whose hearts I hear play the perfect beat 

and whose skins I caress like a lovers breast, 

encasing them in champagne bubbles. 
Yet, they ravage me, savage me. Narcissists 

seeking the elusive liquors of promised bounty 
And, though I envelop the rocks at the edge 

of man’s domain, I hold from him the abyssal depths; 

sparing him from his frailties, and hiding from him 

my vanities 

The rivers are my children, so easily breached 

by the lifeless, upturned fibrous husks of acorn 

shells, travelling along my viscous exterior. 

Their David to my Goliath, making fools of 

all my tributaries. 
The seagulls flying above me, singing their 

homages, drain away my windswept salt from 

holes in their beaks. Like so much brine ejected 

from salt-encrusted lakes 
Like a harbinger of bad news, the moons tides 

recede within me like elasticated yawns, 

revealing the lost souls of battles ancient; 

illuminating elysium’s reflected glory 

upon the silvery face of that Lunar watch keeper

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