isle water.

Like a lilting litany of melodious lullabies,

Little, lifeless soft sways to chimerical love ballads;

A soft, hushed, stony, striking, static thing:

Tripping, you tumble off the highest shelf;

A pitiful, pitiless, painful thing,

Of golden rings and conch shells.

Crashes into the coast, reseting once more,

Whimpers, 'hush', gushes out of the water faucet:

Casting the whales from the ocean,

Washing shoals safe to shore,

Wilting survivors on the sea bed,

Living less life than before.

I bleed you, mollusks and bursts of ink,

Blotted sinks and husks of shells,

Who sing me back to asleep anew,

Who herds the sheep of mottled stars;

Who makes up half-and-part of me,

And, callous, tears my whole apart.

You whisper waking hurricanes,

Your fill of sorrow, pained by joy;

You weep when I'm aslumber,

You smile when I'm awake,

You've lived more life than lords above

And forgot the human race.

As ashy, art of aching slack

and racking of the rope;

Of brushstroke that bounce westwards,

To articulate every hue,

You scoff at red, yellow, purple;

Dyed a permeable, bloom of blue.

-:D

[Thank you for the challenge]