Tumultuous sprays of foam
waltz across the tie dyed sky.
Afternoons spent wandering
the nearby unknowns.
Eventually the shroud unfurled
and offered a sliver of reality.
Lifting the head
from a downward gaze.
Glad to be content
with one's own thoughts.
Though nearing an end
your signs and symbols were cursed.
But I say to you:
Wax and wane,
come and go,
the moon, the tides
they've all been named.