Desire lay soft upon the sea.  
Desiring life for you and me.  

Joy abundant thrashes about;

Celebrating what’s come to be.  

The joy dispels as the predators come.  

Each back to his business,

To where he is from.  

Still Desire continues unpraised.  

Praise to the fins.  

Praise to the gills.  

Praise to the waves,

Which for now run still.  

Desire desires to hold and protect.  

But hark to the fishes,

“We consider guile best”.  

Down to the bottom,

Scattered about,

Perplexed, disassembled,

They answer the shout.  

The whisper forgotten.  

Their joy turned to gloom.  

“Better living with trouble 

Than to turn to the groom.”