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.