In and out,
Forward and back,
Like waves on a grainy seashore
Silvered by the beams
Of the wide, greedy moon
Toying with her flexible lover-
Pushing and pulling
In ancient cyclical time.
Left and right,
Up and down,
You tug at the edges of my mind
In similar regular motion:
Intense and gentle,
Yet only half serious,
You ply my malleable will
Into acceptance;
Then quickly pull away-
A clean, premature click
That leaves me unfulfilled
Yet unable to shake my desire.
These ghost-like appearances-
Phantom interventions-
chill and haunt me.
Your ethereal presence
materialises only in your absences:
Here, then not.
Beside me, then suddenly far away.
Like prairie grasses
Rippling and swaying
In the playful caresses
Of a mischievous breeze,
Then left in motionless expectation,
Waiting for the next breath
To set them back asway.
But the pattern has become familiar,
And loneliness, a pet vice.
So that even were I to break free
From this rhythmic circle,
My life would lie limp
and lifeless,
Dull and still like a moss green pond
Whose surface only ripples
With the fleeting assaults of passing clouds.
And so I live.
From absence to presence
To disappearance renewed.
Content to move along with the tide;
Feeling no remorse
And no resentment.
Just going with the flow,
At one
With the rhythm of your absence.
