Melancholy joy creeps upon me

As I stand and watch the waves,

Crash upon the pure sand. 

I wonder the purpose of human’s

Obsession with this unstable form

Of life. 

Substantially, it applies to many aspects

 Of our feeble lives. 

The biggest waves are the

Most magnificent before they fall,

The height it gains creates a climactic nature;

What goes up most come down, and

For the largest waves, they crash down,

The largest, with great power, till they

Simmer down and retreat. 

The smaller, more peaceful waves

Coexist with the cogent waves,

They come ever so often,

And make an amicable, miniscule chuckle,

As it splashes.

As we stand on the sand,

Hypnotized by this being, vast,

Withholding a myriad of life,

And death,

We spot it.

That lavish shell, full of glory

And beauty, opulently appearing

Within the moist bed of sand

Beneath our feet. 

For the boy next to me, the shell

Is a spiral peach color, fluorescent,

Small yet resplendent.  For the

Girl next to me, she sights a

Navy colored mussel, mysterious,

Wondrous shell.

One of the monstrous waves rips it from

Our fingers, and we lose our small

Glimpse of ardor eternally.

For the luckier ones of us,

We are fearless and strong,

Withstanding the bulkiness of the wave,

And can hold onto our shell with cherish and devotion,

Without losing oneself.

I’ve always dreamed of being able

To collect the affection

If that shell, but every time

I feel as though I have

Finally retrieved it, it’s quickly

And foolishly taken back.

The ocean floor is out of

Reach by now, and we must rely

On our affection for the shell

To save us.

But we drown.