It isn't fair.

It isn't! It's not fair. But
you know what else isn't fair?
The waves.

What's so unfair about the waves,
you pursue.

I didn't say unfair. Just not fair.
There is no concept of fairness in them.
They pull themselves endlessly in
their moon-drawn wheel, blind
to her loveliness, heedless
of all but the draw
of her endless weight
and the pull of their fellows
calling them in from ahead,
urging them on from behind.
Never to act or turn aside
in their courses inexorable
but not deliberate. Unchosen. Reacting only
when cloven by boats or broken by divers
and surfacers. Blown and stoked by wind.
Chased away in brand new rings by a breaching
whale's crash, fading out to ripples
drawn into new rising and combining
ripples, ringing the world with waves - but you

are not a wave.

Yes,
you pursue, insistent. Intent.
I'm not.
It isn't fair.