Destiny of The Tide

The shoreline waits, the current wakes, the tide proceeds to call. The beaches washed, the seas have tossed, the waves succeed to fall. Hosts are ready at the helm, the starboard line is clear: the port has yet to stage the bow, the stern will engineer. Cross winds howl, the ships are heading on toward the day. The never ending sets are steady, coming as they may. The gusty gales, and whirling sails, affect the passage termed: upon the mainstream hull is mast, forever to concern. The stars are lit in heavens calling, moonlight is revered, upon the pearl lit light above the endlessness they’re steered.