it’s like i’m stroking air
when the last muses sing faintly
a Christian hymn; their music sways
as waves swallow the trembling
it’s like i’m molding winds
when the whispering sprites (Ariel?)
concoct sorrowful weeping of magic
the ocean brings to mind reincarnation
it’s like i’m with you still
and even Caliban’s eyes have strained
his brick of a face to withhold the burning tear
as wise shamans look from beyond the bush
it’s never like your absence
like loss that pyre seemed eternally aflame,
but the only thing that lasts longer
than the heartbeat of attachment
is the ocean
and to it i won’t pray