Strokes of the Marin

What is it when the sea swallows one whole?
From within the cascade comes in a torrent
But a single beacon of things becomes lost
The intelligent language becomes a jumble
Juxtaposed over the front of a lingering margin.

Unwillingness.
The keyword in the forefront of those one can deal with
Talking can only work if the street is open,
Keeping one caught up in the failing will only cause loss
What more can they do for us?

Fine to sever, are the strokes of a Marin.