I've come to the realization that i love the sea so much because it contains the story of us.
I; the waves cresting and crashing and you; the shore calm and caressing


like the waves i am an ever continuous current
going in whatever direction; different
different from everything that has its path
different from everyone full of wrath


and like the shore
you are  strong
you withstand the waves and more
ever so put and a place to breathe
you stay; even when the waves just crash and leave

so like the sea and the shore
we are never a bore
cresting and crashing
calming and pulling

we are both creating and destructing
beautiful and harmful
staying and leaving
loving and hating
and if that's not us or who we seem to be
then tell me, what the hell are we?

1694

The wind drew off
Like hungry dogs
Defeated of a bone—
Through fissures in
Volcanic cloud
The yellow lightning shone—
The trees held up
Their mangled limbs
Like animals in pain—
When Nature falls upon herself
Beware an Austrian.

It may not look like it -
Because I'm always by myself,
Reading a good book with a cup
Of coffee on the side, enjoying
Long walks on streets on windy days,
Just sitting on a park bench
Looking at families fly kites together;
And they know they'll never be alone,
- But I fear being alone.
Though it wasn't for long
And for all the wrong reasons,
You made me feel I was loved
You made me feel what it's like to love.
You're gone now and I'm not sad that you are
It was all thanks to you
That now I know
I can *
Be loved.

1
             (Windless Summer)

Between the glass panes of the sea are pressed
Patterns of fronds, and the bronze tracks of fishes.

                            2
                      (Winter)

Foam-ropes lasso the seal-black shiny rocks,
Noosing, slipping and noosing again for ever.

                             3
                 (Windy Summer)

Over-sea going, under returning, meet
And make a wheel, a shell, to hold the sun.

She ruined you in the way
Water erodes rock
And time obscures memory.

She was the gentle fawn
That nestled within your contrived roots,
The soft fog
That embraced your unchanging peaks,
But went away
One season too soon.

Too soon,
She was the comet that shot past
And would only reappear in another lifetime,
The painted lady
That touched upon your concave petals,
And then took flight
One moment too soon.

She ruined you in the way
A woodpecker chips at trees
And watercolor makes inked lines run.

Too close,
You let her come too close,
Until you were tangent lines in an otherwise beautiful work of art.

Somebody had to go.

– so when she left,
She was ruined
   In the way human breath
   Makes pure water acidic,
And she ruined you
   In the way acidic water
   Wipes every detail
   Off the face of an architectural masterpiece

Maybe it's not always bad to feel empty.
Maybe it just means you've given your love away and poured your heart out.
Maybe we should all be empty, of all our dreams, our hopes, our wanting.
Maybe when we find our one thing to pour our all in
Then we'll be glad we can be empty.

Or at least begin to be.