On the  sands, on the land....

It  is  a   massive  breathless whale

 Cast on the  shore,  ye, ruthless 

Waves   slash    the  dead:

Years  of  dwelling   on the  sea

 To  no  end, water’s  crude  treatment,

Yet  I hear  the gyrating  rhythm,

The  Blue  itself   is    mesmerised       

The  journey’s mystery is  beyond

The comprehension of the                    

Eternal  terrifying  depthless  vast.

On the sands,  an improvised tent,

Where   urchins   sip coca, set  the               

Stage   for   carom   and   chess :

Game  is  life for them;                                                                                                                                                         

On the  Land, most  veil 

Already  their  masked  face,                    

Life  is  their  game  for  them,

Win  or  lose  it is  a  necessary  morsel.

Yet   there is   another jubilant  group

Playing  on the  abandoned    boat,

Picking up    shells,  delving into 

The  mystery of their  cast and mould.

They   prefer  to  get  drenched

Watery  splashes  ,salty  froth  all over.

Play, play  they  all play

Play  to  their full  content.

There   are the waves, tidal   knots,

Rolling  over, resounding  as  if

The cosmic  supremacy of  the Universe.

I  hear  a  murmur  of 

Strange   voice, dictum  envisioned,

It  is , it is  all notations ,          

avidly     Preset  calculations.