The world comes apart a little
As I drag myself up onto the shore
Desperate to make the high tide line
Before exhaustion consumes my consciousness
Which seems already sparsely rational

The flood tide saved me
Put land within my reach
But while the Moon is a compassionate Goddess
The Sea Lord is greedy
And eagerly awaits Her waning influence
To drag me back to His depths

Hand over hand I crawl
Wet sand beneath my nails
Sodden clothes a sullen weight
Every laboured breath sputters salt water
Until my eyes roll back
With a final thought

I hope this is far enough