The tide stops for no man


Engulfed. Like rocks below high tide.
Yet still shallow enough.
To experience a momentary break.
Each time the waves roll back.
Small mercies though.
Knowing another wave will crash in
And another. Repetitive fear.
Gulping at freedom
Never complete though.
With one eye on the next break
Exhausted. Pleading for rest.
Night shows no escape though
High or low. Means minutes of reprieve.
Or prolonging the inevitable,
Reality is the controller.
Even of my freedom
Come salt. Eat me away
Transform me into sand.
Freedoms only way.