Have waves come to harbor by accident?
Does water wrinkle by touch or approval?
How lasting is a clouded endearment,
When a smile is wrinkle for removal.
Have waves smiled for a sacrament;
Blended tides to lick splinters and dust.
History began at the stolen watermark
Where a mirror of truth reflected lust.
Where does a retired sailor find peace?
When a wave is too boisterous to hark.
How does accepted corruption decrease?
When written history is meant to suppress.
By grace of a lighthouses fixed caprice,
A lit harbor is promised to bless.