High tide

As creeping vines to a tree, the water seeps ever forth, and like greedy fingers of a child's hand to candy, a most unstoppable force. As the herons do their deed and cull the masses of the weak, the transcendent creatures of ages ago scour the ever-increasing deep. But Just a moon jump away, until where the bandits harvest their fill, the wind will whisper to the waves, our purpose here has been fulfilled. Alas, as the brine begins to recede, as to start the journey again, forever chasing stars, for that their light shall never see the end.