I'm born of wind and water,
rising slow against
horizons restless with my brothers.
The ones who go before me
die, and fall back silent, flat,
and I must crawl atop
their ghostly tugging, crying to me:
go back if you can!

and still
I fight to reach the shore.

I'm tall for just a moment--
then I break in half,
crashing down
My roar against the ground
is quickly but a whisper,
and the churning of my dying rage
melts quickly
into spots of foam.

I tug around your ankles,
calling to you:
come with me if you can!

but you will only stand there firm,
a smile on your face,
your burning feet cooling
in the remnants of my pain.
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