Wind The World The Sea Poem by James McLain

and Wind the world the sea is then to much
and my cares are running like the waves.
Most like we have spent against the shore.
Placed in the middle of the desert sea,
I drift around the island like you never free.
Hidden under the foam to early and late it comes.
Clutching at some heart that it you washed clean.
And that of which was meant to be outside
And we no longer have of what we hold inside.
For naught but that and naught as that, we ever were.
Hovering they the birds we wait in sleep for they
the juicy orbs of gathered sight we need no more.
Moving, we move not out of our way, so they come.
I am from there, like some I know, I speak it naught.
Standing stones that stand no more,
none of they that lived before may sleep beneath.