Grindy Rocks

I’m not an optimist or a pessimist.
I’m a shade that dances on waves
with debaucherous lusts for the sea gods
pulling in the tide to swallow seaside lovers.
I’m neither religious nor realist,
but the spirit that crawls in the sand
churning and turning grindy rocks
into tiny, sugary pebbles.
I don’t like philosophy or sophistry
but I do the Time of ghosts
blackening nights and lightening days
in the cacophanus hudrum
that slowly bubbles into a vast chronology
as can only be observed by the cosmos.