A tilt of the head half-way on the ocean level

A whisper comes from the tide with the wind

but only when I tilt my head the second before dawn awakes me from slumber, by the sultry shore above the ocean floor. 

It is when I have one eye above Earth's level and the other nested on a sea bison that I understand the existence underneath me.

An entire lifetime of mine is a mere second for a giant, I see.

But that is good! Or else one might step through my house on accident, 

And crush it!

And there would go all the hard work I put into my tuna sandwich

Now then I'd be real mad 

No, no, their existence is slo-mo

And since I don't want to ruin a colony of miniscule plants,

I refrain from running too fast

In fear I might switch lands

Oh, pow,

Try to keep up, why don't you?

The quintessence of loneliness, 

It seems,

Is worth an examination.

I'm quite parched, you see, 

It's been days and I yearn for subsistence 

Lonely desolation

A ruinous eradication

Of everything I stand for and claim to be.