Change To The Tide

It was the slumber of the sun, a dim, yet elegant scene.

The melancholic ocean seemed like paper taken into hand, crumpled into a ball.

Only to be straightened once more.

A pale reflection of the moon, rippling into an elongated staircase, leading into mesmerising stars.

No harm comes where waves roll, crash with a SHHH, and widen into such a peculiar pattern.

No harm.

A sound, vague and petite like a deep wail beyond vision

The ocean stirred, a presence bothered it, a gloomy silhouette.

The awakening of the light, creatures gliding below the subtle surface.

The silent creeping refuse of humanity,

A wizened leatherback, surfaces confusing our waste for food, tasting the disguised garbage.

Then came another innocent soul, clueless of sorrow.

The ill coral felt a change to the current, to the tide.

Seasons withered into years, the harmful harshness of loud drifting vessels.

Soon, the colourful coral crumbled, clearing the beige, sandy bottom.

The luminous moon only reflected on the crawling unforgivable pile.

Once a vivid fragrance of salt, now only the repulsive scent of debris

No longer was the water an iridescent turquoise, with reflections of the fading sunset.

And it would vanish like it was sinking into the rhythm of the waves, no life upset.

I warn you distinctively, that this isn’t just a deep broad puddle, but life itself.