I look into the dark eyes of the sea,
Watch the ebbing motions of life,
And find some trembling at the edge.
I think about soft moons on downy shores,
What has been in the past,
And what also has been lost.
I stand beside the rolling water,
Listening to the sounds of the agitated sea,
Brightly fighting its last sick agony.
And I dream of island twilights
While standing among the glaring arc-lights,
And the vast wave of despair covers me up.
—jim sloman, july 1963
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