The unattended ocean reached into the house, into the bedroom, into the sleeping child and summoned the innocent softly. The child was very busy, arranging surreal cyphers of the day gone by and declined the waters whisper.

The ocean insisted with the force of the tide, the patient infinite nag of water who's will does turn stubborn stones into grains of time. The ocean never wins, For there is no contest. The ocean is,  The ocean does, And mortal wills obey. And so the child breached the bed,  Walked the stairs,  Unlocked the door and Left the home,  Locked in step and fast asleep.

the ocean led them forward to a path and onward still through ripping bramble and stinging nettles to the cliff, and into the horizontal sky that lay beyond a yawning precipice. The smashed child lay forever still and awkward between rock teeth, the toothless sea chewed the limp body until it dislodged like a rag.

The sea swallowed, and slipped it into the black water, to be zipped within by the hiss of white waves, and then the ocean sighed and then she turned the tide. Without the master of the moon, the sea will lust sublime. Without reflections from the sun, her water is not benign.