Oblivion, oblivion, hope of the damned.
Your dark waters lap incessantly at the
shores of life.
Washing, ever eroding, until that day when
the body as stark and white and naked as
it was when it left the depths of your abyss
plunges headlong into your black waves
James Jarrett
http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/lunch-poem-20/
