Wherever I seek you or deem you out of place the sea provides me with asylum. My feet rest on the docks my second home where silence reigns until the ocean calls, singing as the tide reaches the shore. My first home was built with breakwaters it had a roof of stars, and a door forever open to the horizon. There my joy turns into a sea breeze. The cliff is my private balcony, where I dissipate at the break of dawn. On that threshold, wide like wings, the rain washes the roots of footsteps that will never be walked again. Today, water is the suit I wear, awakening me from my slumber. And there... I saw you. A guide through cold drops on my cheek a dream made of hunches and deep roots. The soul asks permission to take flight while the thirst of the lips trembles for one vivid sigh... A heartbeat in time, a whisper... Lost dreamers. You will be the mark that turns the soul to smoke the breeze that rouses the wild sea. You’ll be the wrong word in a stranger's mouth silent gossip over the poet’s bare shoulder. You’ll be the music of the bustle, where feet stumble on the same old streets just as the night falls near the harbor. You’ll be the lullaby for the sleeper, and the insomnia on the wrong pillow. A time of pardons and broken shadows, where no brave seamstress comes to mend the dark. You will be the breath the presence while the years linger in the wrinkles of this skin we inhabit.
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