The sailor who poured her heart in the sea

One day you saw a sailor pouring her heart in the sea

When the rain fell

Like silk on trees

painting her sore eyes

Of cold blue dreams

Above the cliff you stood

the eagle of truth

The old wise tree

Watching the sailor pouring her heart in the sea

For she saw a boat crying

Screaming for the shore to see

For the sand to feel

The sailor who poured her heart in the sea.

Blurred vision

From gin and salt

And the stars raining on my feet

I barely could see

The moon sailing away

kissing the wind

the sun

And my lips.

So I wondered

Was I becoming the one who feels

The Quintessence

The sailor pouring her heart in the sea?

For behind her was the lighthouse who,

watching her,

ceased to be.

Yet the sailor kept pouring her heart in the sea

knowing one morning

the horizon would feel

as though her heart painted the sea

of A flourishing need for the ocean

She once promised herself to see.

And she smiled

As I watched her from a cliff

For she was the sailor who poured her in the sea

and the lighthouse may no longer be

she was still the sailor who,

by rainy days knew

she had always been the red light

and the sea.