Mare Undarum

The rhythm of fife and drum suspended betwixt palm and thumb
Of a Beast made of mountains and seas.
The drumbeat sends waves through the medium. The melody speaks of a tedium,
Though holistically all is at ease.
When a pebble is cast from the shore, and the tides utter warnings of war,
And the future seems endlessly stormy,
I know that a low lies between every crest such that on average the waves are at rest
And my future lays peaceful before me.