Ethereal
Tides

On the shore of a dream,

I dip my hands into the ethereal sea;

The salt feels like a memory

of a truth I once held,

now dissolving in the light.

The galaxy is too vast—

a cold, spilled ink across the floor of heaven.

I am a small thing,

carrying a heart of heavy iron

that no star cares to melt.

If I could speak my truest grief,

it would sound like the tide

receding from a hollow cave;

a soft, rhythmic ache

for a home that never was.