The twisted remains of an ancient tree
Have slipped from their perilous existence
On the side of a fragile cliff
And been softened, by the hands of the sea,
Into something strange and new.
Teased from the grip of the clays longing
By the gentle cruelty of the rain,
Its roots still search for nourishment
In the stillness of the empty air
As it lies in withered state.
Now bleached into its essence
The soul of the tree.
Has been set in place by the waves
As a solemn memorial
To lost hopes and fallen dreams.
There is nothing more to see here,
And then quite suddenly,
In the cool early morning air
Of the empty beach,
A dragon throws back its head and roars.