Reaching further, cutting deeper,
The seventh wave violates
This once peaceful shore,
And as the chaotic tide rises
Our secure center trembles and quakes
In the cold grey dawn of decline.

Twelve times the distant bells have tolled,
Signaling the immanent death
Of now supernova institutions,
While newspeak conferences
Playing to receptive audiences
Bask in their perpetual morning.

As the first wave softly touches shore
And the forgotten warmth again returns,
We quickly bury our bonefelt chill
Under rapidly rising castles of sand.