Exile

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Beneath a ruck of stars, the pulsing waves 

Sustain me as I surrender to the whims 

Of wind and moon. Here, lost beneath the eye 

That sees the sea, I make the sum of me.

An architect who built on drifting clouds,

Inventor of his own entropic storms.

A man who couldn't live in the past or present,

So focused on the future's vague design.

The moonlight curls her arms around my shoulders.

I rise to meet her face. She knows my sins.

But waves oscillate. How can I rise

When just one wave might bring me back to you?

The boat embraces land. It's death to cast

Your end upon the spheres. Alight, alight!