But how deep the waters bested, If not so calm and yet so vast, A single moment in time wasted, Not by soggy dreams nor the wait, But a once happy unity closed so fast, Indeed their shells clasped ere tested. Who was once so fine to swim through, And as slow an hour a second only pass, These silent yet so numbered were nigh, At danger do their signs not digress, Where all but dark were pitied soon. How a shell that tender breaks, Which yearns for pilgrim weight, Carried by a silent echo yet miles, Yet miles from a distant fate, Whose touch was all so, so, so fake. The years go by no heart that lay, A single word given but does not beat, But so slow is travel yet fate awaits, A road not thought, not seen to take, Still wanders through an hour in wake. Thus tide and wave their means to fall, What clashes of feats known to Earth, By now which one half friends too well, Carried away ashore was found hearth, A home behind memories too deep to dwell. Whether through cold and heat was done, A fate's task now free to angle or scorn, A shell torn from another was found, Could only be found but who would keep? A breeze of air filled with sand had called. Stood in the midst of peace and water, Trembled at the feats of love and hate, Soon offered half his heart a single hour, Where finds another shell only to give, Whether they were meant to be a match. Then years more grow between them, A walk soon as they part again, Bequeathed the lost shell to fate and sea, Did then turn to find himself there, To write the song of fate another shell.
Originally written for a poetry competition, 2017
Didn’t even make it to the runners up.