The sea will always wash away at the rock,

slowly, surely, as tic follows tock

and Time is patient, it will erase

all, one sediment speck at a time,

for Time is all that Time has

and its only ally is the sea,

the promise in crested waves

that gradually flicks dust off the face

and replaces it with the start of a hole,

miniature, insignificant and just like a quandary

in which doing the right thing costs you,

so too does Time and the sea, both

allies in a war in which they will eventually

be the winners fighting over scraps

and sand stripped away of its dignity.

We are the sea and Time edges on

smiling, for we are but vapour

and steam.

Ian D. Hall 2016