Roll the Waves
Roll the waves oh maestro of the sea,
the rhythm of the world so let it be
in sync with the rites of the nautical fans
humming in the deep from all the lands.
Maestro moonbeams with their magic batons,
forming swells from the sea beast talons,
moving waters with the song of the tides,
keep pace with the ever mysterious skies.
The waves are a constant droning of sound
of regimental swells and hollows all around,
a bolero written by the ancient Gods.
a constant drumming with lightning rods
and quiet days of feathered tapping
when the wind is tired and so far napping.
The end of the song is never no never,
a prelude of ancient fanfares 'til all is severed,
when the light of the world turns itself off
ne’er to see the light nor swell nor trough,
when water is no more and the fruit dried up.
The end is the end as dust comes to dust.
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