It was night and the growing tide never knew its strength,
As it just swept itself through the ferocious tempest.
The tide hit the shore, eating off the words a boy had carved in the afternoon,
the boy with his dachshund besides him, burying it's bone.
The words he would never have thought of, the words he carved with pride.
The tide never knew the words the boy had thought of.
The boy saw the sea curving the rocks; The sea saw the boy carving the words.
The boy slept somewhere afar with the words in his dream, the moon was awake, rowing the sea. The words were so mighty that the tide felt the bolt that it would never have reckoned of.
The boy was dreaming of the words,with his spidy gecko besides his bed, while
his Dachshund was dreaming of the buried bone.
The boy hoped that the shore would guard his carving; the void in sands of time. The dog, the bone and the same hope.
The next day he woke up with the same pride, looked through his patio,
And to his surprise, discovered that the carvings were so intact,
That the tide had failed to eat off, even the buried bone.
The three words you have been waiting to know, the three words.
“thy son liveth……..”
