At mid ocean I paused.
All day I have followed
Full fever
Whipping my tail like a lion.
Searching
For some ripple on the water
Some froth on the tide
To mark your pa**age.
The sun is high
Whispering disaster
Like moth wings on summer nights.
Parching my seas
And turning my hopes to Golden Dust.
Winter.
All is quiet
Except for the screams
Of the dying.