Giant waves on endless ocean
Rolling on without a motion
They curl into circle of surf
And break into countless pieces
At the shores of Reality.
Ego sail ship rides on the storm
Mast and sails are equally thorn
The anchor is out on an endless twine
It never scrapes the Rock Bottom Line.
No use hiding in captain’s lounge
No use staring maps and compass
No use, yelling at the sailors:
“The Final Tidal Weave is upon us!”
Stormy weather, much commotion.
No escape from Planet Ocean.