The Tide

I shall ask not for sympathy

Nor symphonies of love

Nor the everlasting touch

Of erotic hands.

Nor will I grapple with

Galaxies filled with question

Or with pain.

It is through the abyss

Of myself that I fall

And I fall and I fall.

But now I ask why?

Why should I try to reach

For something to grab hold of?

Knowing right well,

There’s nothing there at all.

So I accept fate,

I live with death,

I love with nothing.

Barren to the eyes that watch.

Yet even an ocean lay blue

With hints and hues.

In the invisible depths

Beneath the crests

There is past,

There is truth.