Sister, Waiting.

I start and end here on the timeless rocks, and the sea is endless.   Here is the place where I rest, and feast, and rejoice, and mourn and where I wait, where I always wait.
Here on the rocks where once I saw long low ships with bright sails, distant things with black winged birds above them seeking out land.    Those ships knew me, though not by name, and sometimes I reached out with my need and I took them.
Sunrises and sunsets turned the sea to fire and blood more times than could be counted, and the distant ships grew larger, and stranger, sailed and sped faster and more often.   And sometimes, from time to time, when it pleased me, I took them.
I watched as brief men came to the rocks and flickered anxious lives, and stern eyes raked the land.   A tower rose , iron girders obscene here in my presence, and stone and glass.   They set a light, a shining eye to turn ancient mother night into their harlot to dance at their command.   And sullen I sat on the rocks and watched the ships with longing but now I could not take them.
Sunrises and sunsets seem further apart now, the iron girders an anchor binding me to dreadful day-by-day.   I wait.  I always wait.    The sea showers the rocks and the hard upright tower, and time showers it too.   Soon, not soon as flickering men measure things but soon, the tower of stone and glass will wear away and iron girders will fail and wash the rocks rusty, pass blood-red into the sea and be gone.
For now though I wait.  I hunger but I do not starve.   I watch the ships pass by and though I cannot take these ships in this place I am still nourished.  All seas are one sea and I close my eyes and listen.

Listen now to the waves between the rocks.  The salt sweet sigh of shipwrecked souls.

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