Waves forever play with the stones and sand,
Standing tall shortly before falling away,
Staying over the shore, drowning the land,
And pulling pebbles back from whence they came.
Dark at the start yet lighter at full height.
Mighty crashes roll over the earth's hearth,
Arching forward then retracting contrite,
Like fingers flow, plucking strings of a harp.
Foam forms bright white which the bubbles burst clear,
Eerily disappearing: light in gloam.
Stone cracks, crumbles, and is crushed under years,
Smeared in minuscule specs 'cross a vast dome.
As one deep at rest's breaths keep as they have,
They come forth and go though they always stay.