Waves

A world beneath her hothouse tides
of life unseen; to us, she hides.
But the raging storm? Her turbulent thunder?
Nothing could stop the waves that plunder.
 
Mildewed tentacles of liberated weed,
that soak the salt and float; they’re freed
from suffocating waters that hold them under,
below the sea and the waves that plunder.
 
Bone fragments, carcasses appear on the shore;
collateral damage from the infinite war.
Expelled, debarred from the living and free,
brought to the shores by the raging sea.
 
Tumultuous grumbles as soldiers hold strong,
against the wrathful surges that prolong,
where stones hold steady and thrash against,
the tempestuous water in idle defence.
 
With the light of day on a fading note
the sea goes writhing back,
until fire ignites upon water again
to authorise her next attack.