Floating
On the sine of the wave
I become it
I bend
I rest on the crest.

Bow with the trough
Touch base with my nave
I am soft tip of the wave
Lips of an ocean
You secretly crave.

Salt wet kiss on your shores
Foaming mirth
Then no more.

I pull in your every grain
Tug your abstract pain

I’m now tangent
Lucent floor of your feet
Receding, I
Leave a fast drying stain
In sad defeat.

I break hard on your lees
Base of your hypotenuse
Curve of your reach
Your apex your Muse.
Your obsolete ruse.

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Pick up your pen
Write to me then
It could be birdsong
Or Krishna’s soft flute.

In total absolution
I kneel in the pews.

I’m still sine of your wave
Laving your shores
Primal call to your cause
In deepest of cave
I surrender my loss.