We have no way of dealing with the sea,
Drinking water is fine by me.
but sea grasses do not fool me
Into visiting seabeds.  
Human hands stain the sea with detritus
There is now no water music in the secret garden
Of the sea,
Moisturize before the wastewater grips you.

Water is repetitive, water is the doyen of tides,
menstrual cycles, sister moon's loony tunes. 
When water drips off your hand
it drops into streams, rivers. seas
men construct bridges over turbulent waters,
She is stuck on the brink of suspicion and despair;
Fear death by drowning is in the air. The river of life,
Is set within the placid lake that will cleanse
But I am immersed by the sun.
I break it to you: dreams do come true.
The cylical course of clouds and waves and tides and rivers
Is continuous, contiguous with the shadow of this old water tree,