Today we challenge impossibility -

Not with rope or might,

But with the ancient sea itself.

Salt-stung feet dart past

Sun-bleached sand,

Where foam-laced fingers

Beckon us deeper.

No strategy but stubborn hearts,

No weapon but bare hands,

We charge the rolling blue beast,

Warriors drunk on summer boldness.

Thigh-deep now, we grasp

At liquid silk that laughs,

Slipping through desperate fingers

Like stolen time.

The ocean toys with us,

Drawing sand from beneath,

Until we tumble into its cold embrace -

A dance of its choosing.

Spitting brine, we rise,

Salt-crusted warriors,

Muscles straining against 

The weight of seas.

But water knows no chains,

Flows free of mortal grasp,

This ancient shapeshifter

Mocking our human bounds.

Tonight we retreat,

Hair dripping defeat,

But tomorrow brings

New battles, old foe.