This beckoning To my own faltering. The kisses come silent Blown upon the passing gusts. The sails of mine Are weathered by weather, Folding in the ruining of my mind, Twisting by the ruptures upon my heart. My hail Is your tale. My tears, pour the ocean for me To cross, while my loss is beside me. Her form is loosened upon my deck Showered with the hail, beaten by the specks. I have poured my all in this love Once more, and now I am grieving All my leaving Into this angered voyage Upon the winds of fate, The tortures of hate. My slender spirit, Her telling eyes. Her woes, her weary cries. Her form was a place of music, Thudding the sound of a heart When now cannot even start. My weeping Has created the seeping Current for me to follow Towards the next retreat. For I face cowardice With no remorse. What would love be, if I had not sown its seed In my heart, to reap a storm?