There is a middle ground to all this noise
Something that can’t be easily ignored
Pulling straight the doubtful sea
Weathed away by simplicity
On one hand an island, stable yet carefree
On the other a mountain, unmoving yet alive
Both have their reasons
That they want the sea to die
Each see it as a hassle
As all middle grounds are
A sea so full of doubt it might as well not be a sea at all
So they each give it gifts of anger
Hatred
Judgement
Rage
Hoping to pull it closer
Yet destroy it all the same
Both the moutian and the island are wonderful to behold
A creation so lovely
A sight to see
But in their eyes
The other is the enemy
So they trash the sea aside them
Each feeding into it’s demise
Both unwilling to change their views
As the doubtful sea dries before their eyes.