Death of the Deceived

I lurk to tread troubled waters, Across earth’s reality. On traced wheels of ventured Men, lost in faded glory. My eyes print upon the strand, And sway, entranced in their vexing Motions, as She hauls her prey: Frozen preserves of timely wrath, Slipping amiss…amiss. Into Her broken depths, That gather darkness From wood and flesh; Petrified, neath Her swollen fists. She lusts the breath of sailing ships Still some far away. I marvel how many have lost their way Adrift Her supple skin, Like doves of derailed direction, Taken by a drunken wind. Seduced by Her wispy motions And spun along sea-web to deceive; They disregard the Son’s counsel.