I remember him as a God of sea to rival Neptune,
Striding along ocean rim laced with froth and foam,
His very presence commanding the tides to wax and wane.
His power rippled across powerful shoulders,
His strength contained in his mighty chest,
He was a vision of presence against the horizon.
This waterfront world belongs to him, held firm,
It submits to him eagerly, hungry for his touch and praise,
It swells to show him all it can offer, then recedes quietly.
It awaits his commands, obedient and ready,
He could send it forth to crush nations,
Or call it in to gently bathe his feet.
He is the ocean, expansive and boundless,
I am the prairie, the grass swaying in soft breeze,
The sun beating down on land locked open spaces.
Once we met, the ocean and this prairie land,
It was all a union should be and can offer,
Including the bitter sweet parting, the space growing wide between.
Amidst this caked and fractured terra firma,
I now cower alone, arms drawing knees in tight,
In this drought, I can scarcely now recall his features.
He is the sea and I the dry, sunbaked, brittle land,
He is a god within his element and I his displaced worshiper,
He is as far beyond me as the stars above.
He is now memory, a song played over and over,
He dissipates like the morning mist over this endless land,
I feel I am losing again what I lost already once before.
As the precious moments wind down like notes of a music box,
I secretly and silently seek him within his element,
A fleeting glance, a borrowed moment.
I place my hand within a tub of cold water,
I draw forth in my small palm, a tiny puddle of water,
I stare into the wavering water and behold him once again,
Before it drips away between my fingers.