POETRY

The End of the World

Photo by form PxHere

Waves beat against rocks
Jagged and cold in this Scottish winter
In our heart, there is no end to caves
They go on and on forever, redefine
“Depth,” they are infinite and broad,
The expanse moves to tears, regularly
There is no way to stop this movement,
These tides, the endless crashing against the wet
Cold, stone walls