Swan song

The wild wind brewed a storm

Tangling her hair, beating her face.

Leading her where she belongs.

The wicked waves thrashing against the cliff.

Breaking in, the water forcing its way through the

Hollowness. Breaks, cracks, holes,

The Void.

It comes and goes only to return stronger and harder,

Shattering the foundations on which she stood.

Battered, broken.

Her heart, as full as the moon above,

Listens to the music of the sea, of the night.

Searching in torment

For that ray of light which might stop her

From meeting her impending doom.

The clouds roar, the rain pours,

The horizon melts away in the darkness.

The wind, still clutching her hand,

Whispers sweet nothings in her ear.

Wet and wanton, she slips.

And like a setting sun she goes down and



About the painting – “Waiting for the tide” is a painting by David Jay Spyker








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