Your air, and my own Drink wine, upon the cliffs Where we may take sight of owls Perched upon the top of boughs, In this distant night. For all I witness is the ocean, With a phantom beside Me, in the unfolded world. Unfurled, are my lips To taste the breezes, coming ashore. Furled, are my fists To feel my frustration, in your absence. Blessed, are the ways of love To leak from me, misguided protests, to the past, When I should simply walk forward, To join you in the tide.