An Atoll's Obituary: The Demise of a Follower
(Might is supreme. In nature itself, the superior gorges the weak. Power is appreciated, even venerated. An undulation in the habitual pattern, even as a minor natural calamity, hardly deters the hope of the admirer to one day fuse with the mighty destroyer, thus sharing strength so long unknown.)
The Pacific, passive, in plaintive pose,
Pavonian pallor plush and pure,
Pamper pliant pals too close.
Your yawning yearn to nurse and cure
Bays in plight, shores in pain,
Guardian hype or virtuous vain?
I ponder this dusk, dream in dread
Squander will you, the rest to peril led!
You mock in pain, on sandy castles slain,
Scoffing straits, your mates in play,
Empty your vault, azure gold amassed,
To hungry bowels, in compliance they lay.
Typhoons in armour demand a share
You, though, low in grade unleash
Sated claims of self-praise, routing rowdies fair
A lesson in might you then teach.
My melancholy tarnished, bronze tiara tampered
Brackish bubbles funneled my heart
Your passion province no longer apart
Cascade my soul in bluish bloom
Blatant bravado shall I moon
Though sunk in you I may stay,
Diadem demolished, just tearful cocoon
Saved me you have, on my last day.