Confusion

She stood at the edge of the cliff,
A whiff of air blew her lush black hair,
She shone delightfully fair in the moonlit air,
The shore was noisy and so was her soul,
The waves jumped in confusion,
and lashed with even greater delusion,
bubbles and foams and froth and wrath,
all jumped,
all tumbled,
within the waves,
between her soul,
the air became foul,
and rot her soul,
confusion breeds clarity they say,
clarity is an illusion they say,
She breathes the foul air
and manages to walk back with her flowing hair,
in despair
in despair......