The Fissure

The waves rush into and around the fissure,

eagerly, as a young lover lapping at a labia.

I watch and listen as they hiss, and spit,

seeming almost, to gasp and breathe;

eroding defences, weakening barriers,

determined!

Gulls and various feathered fowl,

shriek in approval or maybe defiance,

barely audible, above the thunderous seas,

impervious to the power beneath.

From the cliff edge, feeling insignificant,

I stand in awe.