O mother,
Ye the sea who hast crashed upon the shores,
And shapest the precipitous cliffs of my childhood
Thy lull hast eternally calmed me to slumber
In truth the ululating howl of thy grief
For the moon.
The jaundiced glow of the distant orb
Beckoned upon thy aching soul and
As the world turned each night
Thy waves slammed harder against the cliffs
Not as easily hewn as the rocks of my youth
Thy insidious carving would taketh aeons to break them.
Farther and farther from me
I stood steadfast and watched
The waters yearning for the lunar glory
So distant yet magnetic,
Uncovering the depths of thy being
Something a stationary monolith
Can only ever dream of