It's full moon, 
but the ebbing tide never comes, 
the sea is fast rising, 
it's getting hotter, 
and becoming a monster.

The islet over the horizon, 
its shore whiter than clouds, 
where kingfishers and sea urchins 
live in glory, 
painted the sunset in silhouetted 
prose mosaic, 
but it's gone and devoured by the sea, 
pulled deeper into her bosom, 
till it disappeared, 
disappear with the ebbing tide, 
and both are not coming back.

What's going on with the sea? 
It's hotter than ever, 
she murdered the ebbing tide, 
her rising water eats all the small islands, 
and the storm she is sending, 
are getting stronger and stronger, 
not too soon, 
the strongest, 
no where we can run, 
nothing to hide and keep, 
but to wait for our death.