On the Eighth Day

There is a beach filled with sand Every few seconds the ocean tries grabbing it using its hand As the wave breaks Watery fingers allow the stream to take Particle strands a foundation for one’s dream castle with a lake Are retrieved by this natural wake A friendly Godly gesture to build a moat Giving the elements the final vote A foot image appears Then immediately disappears Marking a special moment in time Maybe a loving proposal requiring wine Leaving a bubbly imprint Blowing, popping shining tint A child with a plastic shovel Digs a hole where it was once level Watching the water fill the hole Evaporating from heat overpowering the cold This is how the world revolves Spinning around a mystery to be solved A daily constant mission No end in sight only continent division None of which are a human’s decision This body can be used to get clean Or played with while laughing a joyful scream Having a salty taste There is no waste Quenching a desperate thirst Receiving a blessing not a curse Separating many cultures Soothing those traveling wanting to be vultures Handling the rapids with care When nearly bare Cooling off a pleasant dare Swimming in a natural tease Allowing the rolling flirting as it please There are those Who watch it flows Hearing ghostly bellows stating ‘there she blows’ And it is then We need to defend This heavenly grace Moving at its own pace