Reaching further, cutting deeper, The seventh wave violates This once peaceful shore, And as the chaotic tide rises Our secure center trembles and quakes In the cold grey dawn of decline. Twelve times the distant bells have tolled, Signaling the immanent death Of now supernova institutions, While newspeak conferences Playing to receptive audiences Bask in their perpetual morning. As the first wave softly touches shore And the forgotten warmth again returns, We quickly bury our bonefelt chill Under rapidly rising castles of sand.