Folegandros

The world will change, believe it. See that cliff
that rises sheer from the transparent sea
yawning, concave, the rock rippling as if
it were whales’ teeth, crowned with the fortifed
white Kastro which men said could never be
seized? Well, one day that town shall be defied
by the sea churning and turning upon
the shore in a vast flood, a liquid wall
eating the hard limestone, rock shall be won
by water, as a slice of cliff face slides
neatly to the depths, rubble, plants and all
the seagull fledglings, the town itself besides.
The world will change, the high white town will fall
as surely as the moon controls the tides.