“When the Sea Sleeps”
This ship creeks.
The planks bend under the tides of time,
and echo whispers of a renaissance from long ago,
telling tales of dusty old thrones.
Alone, I retire.
I long to dream.
This bed still has your warmth.
Here, your dust has settled.
Desire hangs in the air tonight,
it weighs me down with thickness,
the heaviness that strands us in the doldrums of love.
When the sea sleeps,
I lie in the stillness of lingering memories.
I ponder all this emptiness.
Yet, deep down we know
nothingness can’t exist.
Somehow, something more than this.
And we listen when the captain says,
“Be patient, for the wind will come.”
Aug 15, 2015
Aug 15, 2015 at 9:04 PM UTC
“When the Sea Sleeps”
This ship creeks.
The planks bend under the tides of time,
and echo whispers of a renaissance from long ago,
telling tales of dusty old thrones.
Alone, I retire.
I long to dream.
This bed still has your warmth.
Here, your dust has settled.
Desire hangs in the air tonight,
it weighs me down with thickness,
the heaviness that strands us in the doldrums of love.
When the sea sleeps,
I lie in the stillness of lingering memories.
I ponder all this emptiness.
Yet, deep down we know
nothingness can’t exist.
Somehow, something more than this.
And we listen when the captain says,
“Be patient, for the wind will come.”
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