The white crests of the mountain sea
are briny conjurations,
an untraceable sorcery of mist and churning vapor,
in the vanishing moment
to time unchronicled and shape unformed.
The blue-veined waves compose
an eternal return of disappearing amusements,
an anarchic minstrelsy
that entertains and distracts us
until we too, like the surf,
are entombed again in the depths
which we issued,
magical, muck-sheathed and primordial.