The Ruins

The wind wrestles the waves, rocking a lonely ship.
The tide created, will never touch the moon.

As sly as silk the wind dove under,
All her pressures captured below land.

She fought to become an anchor
To the only ship accompanying devoted, swimming waters.

Two forces, which battle and serge.

Silk, like ribbon will tie their hands. Interlocking.
Nature beats, arising a storm.

We'll come in sheets.

But chains rust the defeat.