what happens, when tides turn to dust?
i can not say i might know
yet i wonder...
is the stilling met with joy?
are there emotions to feel?
longing and regret stir from the absence of tides
whose witness then, questions even this as real?
and when the dust clears,
and all that was
is as it was before,
would i know?
what happens then, when tides turn to dust?
in days of silence
could i say
i do not fear?
perhaps not,
not so long as there's story here
what then?
what now?
what questions remain? and are questions answered
as love beyond the grave?
are not questions, and story
makings of the mind?
what then, of sobering stillness
what now, of so called divine?
tides to dust?
is it relief or is it fear?
is it sorrow or joy? or are none of these here?
what remorse is this, who wishes for tears?
what insanity is this, whose peace wars with fear?
have the tides turned,
if an eternal tapestry is clear? or is this the encroachment
of absolution unrealized
whose dust draws nearer?
what happens when tides turn to dust?
what sympathies remain?
would i miss you, my friend
or would we be, again?