My eyes turn towards where you sail,
And, also swim.
My eyes turn towards where you scream
On a subtle whim.
You ride the currents above my stare,
Because that is where my loathing has its bathing.
You row oars across the sadness,
Beneath the starry night
Of our mourning.
You have chosen the straw closest to my heart,
That was also the shortest.
You feel what I feel,
Can you not?
How would you not
When you feel the wildernesses parting?
By a sadness of recollecting.
Each drop shall quench you,
Each drop shall sate you.
But, each drop shall devour you,
Each drop shall harm you.
From what I will become,
The engine of destruction by my floods.