The water Prometheus,
he stole the waves for humanity.
His feelings filled with vanity.
Their ambiguous style,
And curving form, all the while.
Their constant repetition,
Balancing on their toes, just as he,
Stealing them, one two, three.
But he got caught by an upbeat tempo,
All the lighting bolts going to and fro,
Froze him and drug him back to his stone and eagle,
“the waves are meant for the rich and regal”.
But all the while the waves were in motion,
Fleeing free from such a notion.
They landed on the rugged Earth,
Soon to circum to a sudden rebirth.
A lighting bolt hit them as they seat,
Turning them into frozen concrete.