Calm.
Grinding gently the ingredients of patience.
The somnolent waves mourn.

There are no tunnels under the seas,
But vistas cut open through
Creeping lights foreshadowed by the
Debris of epochal wrecks.

Calm.
Resilient calm, nurturing threads of
Truth and compensation frapped by
Tongues of wind —
The truth of a long dream chained
And the compensation of wishes...

The outcome remains calm.