No wave easily embraces a shore, Yet broken it finds solace soars. Beyond is sea, pale godless, No effect easily saves scores. Yet a violin plays of the whore, Upon the pier, praying for goddesses. A boat launches without birth mother, Father never sees need for guidances, Tragedy is compassions' like brother, Yet time must pass or we tarnish each other. My tragedy at sea was like no other: I believed in no Poseidon of fate. So I found no place safe to wallow, Waves endlessly chased my starboard, Port too was nothing but ocean onward, So I trumpet ironic prayers for rain, Anything to wash away my shameful act.