Tide of the Sea

A bird with lucid wings, behaving oddly

To the bird perched on Zues’s clouded peaks

And like Spring to Winter, never a match so bleak

But the foalish eyes, how they assembled so fondly,

Their wings would soar, and dance the shadow’s bonding

What light is real, or fake, their fate shall meet,

In the skies born of the serpent’s rage, they sink

Their teeth, and rise up the spine, to a place that’s Godly.

When lifted in hot air, Pompeii’s hail

Had fallen down to cement our likeness,

And many ashes, catching wing of the starling

Drove them from fear; for as the bird sailed

Through the earthly snow, what meant to be frightened

The heartbeat of all things… la marea del mare.