Crashing to the beach,

as if distant thunder roar,

sending fans of whitewater,

streching,

far upon the fine black rock,

then,

the sea,

pulling into itself,

leaving a sheen upon the sand,

like a shadow,

mimecking the wave that there once laid,

before that shadow can fade away,

another crash,

a different wave,

always similar, never the same,

each a complete cycle unto itself,

yet never ending.