and the sea is calm
as a red sky fades slowly into dark,
the sound a lulling thing, peaceful,
for a soul that needs balm,
all too worn from the hate and the lies
that fill the air like smoke from green wood,
pungent, untrue, and inefficient.
But the tides change,
the seas change,
the storms fade into the distance
and what is left is the flotsam
and the peace.
The sky grows darker,
a thin haze hiding the stars,
the moon not yet showing its light
until all that is left is you
and the sound of water,
a lullaby for the broken,
a sacred whisper to rest
while you can, while the sea waits
for the coming tide.