Tides surge from inside and without.
A call from the void that feeds on itself.
Waves press and break against uncompromising contours.
This is relentless compassion.
What colossal hubris to consider control,
As an aspiring Demiurge only ever in name.
To these ends, all language is profane.
Ends without ends. Wisdom, the fool’s errand.
Creation consumes consumption.
In the madness of the cannibal, perfection is death.
No excuse, no justification, no caveat.
Perfection is death.
-tvb