Lunar Sea

by Renwick Berchild

So are the seas, bright even in this darkness,
Bright like eyes, who’ve not succumb to death,
With lights still inside, peering from the soul;
This is the ocean, and I linger by her, a ghost.

A mother, maybe, but I have no mother to speak,
I have no father, no sibling, no ancestor, just this,
She, the water, the lapping waves, and sometimes
The moon, but only when she is a thin horn, unblown.

Ships, gulls, whale moans, they are not here,
For this blue body is an empty body, a hollow shell,
That whistles with the wind, with no life in its cradle,
That a heart like mine could lie in, be unknown.

Shores are shining tonight, shores are silver slabbed,
Sands are slick and dappled by the large lunar hand,
All stretched by a sky, pale and clear and crystal,
Too much so, the air cutting and bitter as arctic cold.

These words are meaningless to what I behold,
Have no purpose, the scene I bathe in, washes,
The written passages never reach, merely brush
This sea at darkness, barely alive, compared to.

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6 Comments to “Lunar Sea”

  1. Absolutely stunning stuff. Wordsmithery at its finest.

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