I'm too near the ocean
to finish up a stream.
Standing on this precipice
I dream a sailor's dream.
Thoughts of river sources,
seem too far away.
I cannot see beginnings
oozing out of clay.
Waterfalls are hard to climb,
harder near the top.
Fighting current's not my style,
easier to drop.
Waves sometimes turn tidal, though,
storms breed hurricanes.
Perhaps if I assault the land,
She'll have to learn my name.
