Trudging into lapping waves On a dim and dusky eve.
Chest deep One pops up, pressing one's chest Onto the water, And swims toward a distant Silhouetted rock outcrop.
But it doesn't stay silhouetted.
Soon, one is heading into A grand, black abyss, There is no shape in this world, Only the feel of limbs -- pulling & kicking.
Sounds grow ever more feeble -- And ever more rare -- Until the smell of seawater becomes A bright and vivid sensory experience -- Layered & textured.
Rolling onto one's back, one can see Patches of sparkling stars In the cloud gaps.
One lays upon the waves -- Feeling as though one conforms to them As one floats like a piece of driftwood -- And sees the twinkle of distant stars, In a world too vast to understand.
The tide rises, the tide falls, The twilight darkens, the curlew calls; Along the sea-sands damp and brown The traveller hastens toward the town, And the tide rises, the tide falls.
Darkness settles on roofs and walls, But the sea, the sea in the darkness calls; The little waves, with their soft, white hands, Efface the footprints in the sands, And the tide rises, the tide falls.
The morning breaks; the steeds in their stalls Stamp and neigh, as the hostler calls; The day returns, but nevermore Returns the traveller to the shore, And the tide rises, the tide falls.
Tiger Riding for Beginners 