This is peace When the tide comes in Washing away Debris along the shore Left by the many Onlookers, non-participants Critics of what's been left Creators of division Without the ability of maths Out of sight But still adding up Filling our oceans with plastic Not snatched in the fishing nets Scraping along the bed Everything else getting caught And tossed back Death is slow A grinding away, loss of lubricant Bone on bone on rock We chip away Become sharp edges Better tools for the slaughter Eating whatever comes by next Starving but well fed This is peace A place Where nothing is good enough So we create problems A moral rot Stuck on board Our water filled with salt There will be no quenching Of this thirst Having come from this water Return we cannot Ever evolving A species transcending And not ordinary Unsatisfied, determined Unwilling to settle For what we've got: Minds finding patterns Others passed on Dangerous thoughts Revealing the human Magnificence