I was going to say
the waves were speaking

of persistence. It made
sense at the shore, the scoured

rocks, you know, no
matter what the tide the waves

behave like waves no matter
what the hour or chunk

of ice they toss, but by
and by I was convinced

persistence never drove a wave.

Well, what then, watching
waves at work? Not work.

Well, what it is they do.
Well, what they do they are.

A thousand silver tongues?
No. What they do they are.

 

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