"This is our demise," she wailed, stumbling down the burning monument's stairs
Echoes of despair resounded through sea-foam waves and tears
Through her very marrow, once fortified by divine might
Now shattered, like the fragile balance of opposing light
A delicate equilibrium, forever lost to the tides
How blind was their faith, trusting volatile, destructive sides?
She questions it now, as white robes cling to her shivering frame
Robes of pretense, robes of compassion, swept away by the waves' relentless claim
The world succumbs to the cresting tide's deadly grasp
An agonizing end, or a final, desperate clasp?
Her arms outstretched, fingers curled in sorrow's pearls
"This is our end!" she cries, as the abyss beckons and whirls
What solace can I offer the apostle, when I too feel
Gravity's chains dragging me down, unable to conceal
The terror of the unstoppable wave?
Yet, I must reach out, grasp her hand, and brave
"Then let us drown, you and I, and hope for a brighter shore
A tomorrow without tears, for that's all we've ever adored."
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