Seaside Moors he listens to wind secrets

i wanted to make a thread(post?) where i tried my hand at poetic prose. if it doesn't make sense, uh, i'm very new at this and trying my best.

dawn waxing, night waning; as celestial churn of night to morn mimics lunar aeons —
sepulchral, stalwart, sentinel the tundrian roots himself to pliable, cool sands underfoot. awash in resilient moonbeams of sugar spun; polar glower afixed upon churning sea. each rise and fall of frothy currents maroons unfortunate sealife upon damp sands, in shallow pools. candycolored fish, tangles of seaweed; fragments of pastel shells and bonewhite driftwood
callous; cruel —
expelling those that need her most. the sea and he are alike; severed from the same cut of titan.
no more, no more —

n o
m o r e

the unseelie king spurns the sea’s whispers of likeness; of soul share. shoulders ripe with strong sinew steel against fierce, salty breeze as seabrine fingers clutch at darkhairs of his nape. we are not the same… fierce words borne of burning and smokesteeped whiskey drown; protests of the sea in a frothing wave drags each syllable beneath eager eddies.
soft sand surrenders to nomad’s might; releasing; as he steps upon the hard and stable earth the moor eagerly provides.