I would you’d make me salt,
cast my name to the tide,
let the wind bear my ruin
to lands unremembered.
Twice, I split the sky,
unbarred doors best left veiled,
breathed storms where thy light
once lay unshaken.
Yet thou stand’st—
unmoved, unbroken,
a sky unyielding,
a river that takes all,
yet rages not.
Wouldst thou burn,
I should be smoke.
Wouldst thou drown me,
I should be rain.
But thou lov’st still,
and therein lies my undoing.
Mar 18, 2025
Mar 18, 2025 at 6:38 PM UTC
I would you’d make me salt,
cast my name to the tide,
let the wind bear my ruin
to lands unremembered.
Twice, I split the sky,
unbarred doors best left veiled,
breathed storms where thy light
once lay unshaken.
Yet thou stand’st—
unmoved, unbroken,
a sky unyielding,
a river that takes all,
yet rages not.
Wouldst thou burn,
I should be smoke.
Wouldst thou drown me,
I should be rain.
But thou lov’st still,
and therein lies my undoing.
