Whilst lovers sail on shallow creeks,
Deep regret flows within.
A whirling stream of rapid hope;
But we row on, on, on…
On torrential turns, they sway,
Away, I swim to stranger depths;
My breath is taken by the nerve,
Of a life that I deserve to take
Not the row that ushers
Drop by drop,
A beading droplet
But begotten with a tide that cares not,
For reason, rhythm, wrestling waves;
It touches banks unknown.