The winter sharp brains of children 
Took a turn for the worse,
Suffered an inferiority complex.

Dispersed, triumphant solely in their dreams.
Running across raging seas, they danced on the waves.

A storm-blessed salty awakening.
They had nothing to regret. 
They were sweeter than children.
The word ‘atrocity’ was expunged from the dictionary.
Elm trees were caw-caw-cawing with the rooks.
Nobody lied, not even the poets.
Blue wine stains penetrated my sleep.

In the sea, infused with stars,
Slow rhythms predominated
The glare of the day persisted into night
The femininity of love was universally acknowledged.
Skies were bursting with surprise
Lightning, and the wind conspired for hours.
Beneath the waves, the exalted dawn was deja vu.
I sometimes saw the same woman when she saw me.

By the seashore the low sun was strained with all that gothik horror lacked,
Fact. The waves rolled off his shivering dream,
to rise to the eyes of the seas, slowly.

Even those whose opinions we despise can open-up our eyes to our own holy imperfections, help us love all that is passing, frail, human.