Ten mile long stony face
On which a long light shines,
Gentle scoop by the sea,
Border between men and
Their original salt,
Holding the island's shape,
Shaping the waves into
Choirs of longevity.
Early last century,
Elegant architects
Walking through the rubble
Sadly took account of
The stricken city that
Papers said lay prostrate
Under catastrophe.
One might have yelled, "A wall!"
Whatever happened, soon
They began rebuilding
And staging protection
Against the water's teeth.
Important afternoons
Of dazzling bodies built
A memorial to
Protect against and taunt
The ocean's forceful art,
Putting forth a sign that
Can be seen but not read,
Its fortune lost in sound.
That fortune is too plain
However, anyone
With a past knows what end
Awaits every sure bet.
And so vastness may be
Frustrated by stones that
outweigh the sea's own, but
Whoever returns won't
Remember this place's
Antique and hopeful mood,
When it was still cut off
From sorrow's chandeliers.
The future has arrived,
Each storm describes it, and
Until the relentless
Lives of fantasy and
Remembrance fade, no peace
Will be known by this town.
It works day and night in
Wind and waves, its people
Always toast to better
Wages for better wine.
To honor past dreamers
And maintain dignity
They must keep doom distinct.
What once was an image
Is now an afterlife
Of working. those who bermed
The leeward side and built
This new place on that old
One need some space to sleep
Or open mystery.
Now all the cargo's gone
In waves of memory.
The ocean cleans the face
Of the old, friendly wall
With bubbles of soft foam.
Gulls fill the placid sky,
Seaweed gathers in heaps.
It's a nice place to watch
Nature's indifference
Brea like a winter wheel
Against mankind's talent
For physical withdrawal.