Towering, rolling, floating mountains,
barren white monoliths of ice,
riding gracefully up, up on endless swells.
Ancient ballet masters dancing
in step to a soundless air,
to poise upon the crest with an artist's pride
then sweep down into the trough,
crushing all that moves below.
Stretching to the far horizon and beyond,
these giants of the arctic waste
march round the sea with threatening stance,
frozen guardians,hailing no friends,
for neither alien track nor comrade-in-arms
can find safe passage.
And when paths cross...
they crash together with thunderous roar,
grinding and smashing in mindless combat
til one succumbs to the greater force
and yields in broken splendor,
while the victor moves on to rise again,
dancing gracefully up, up, on endless swells.