When the Tide Moves On, My Love

The dawn does not linger forever,
nor bargain with the sleeping sea.
A horizon is not a promise kept aside,
but a door that opens briefly, then leaves.

I waited where the waters trembled,
where hope and fear shared the same shore.
Believing perhaps one calmer morning
would arrive and ask for nothing more.

You spoke of learning how to row,
of steady hands and kinder skies.
But no sailor learns upon a harbor wall,
staring endlessly at the tides.

The ocean never asks for mastery,
nor demands a heart made whole.
It teaches through salt upon the wound,
through storms that shape the soul.

For perfection is a distant lighthouse,
forever retreating from the eye.
And those who wait to become fearless
often watch their seasons pass them by.

I would have crossed through wind and thunder,
with trembling hands upon the oar.
Not because I knew the way,
but because love was worth the storm.

For love is not the absence of rain,
nor two hearts sheltered from the sea.
It is choosing one another still
when neither knows what tomorrow will be.

And so the sun has kept on rising,
as suns have always done before.
One dawn missed becomes a memory,
then quietly becomes one more.

I do not leave for lack of longing,
nor because the waters ceased to call.
I leave because every unanswered tide
slowly teaches the sea to fall still.

If there is no faith in this fragile moment,
no courage for the waves that are,
then even the brightest constellation
fades beyond the reach of stars.

Know this, my love,
my heart will always bless your name.
But I can no longer ask tomorrow
to rescue what today could not sustain.

So when the lavender sky returns,
and the ocean sings its ancient hymn,
perhaps you'll find that love was never waiting
for the storm to end;

Only for two souls
willing to sail within it.

And I, at last,
have followed the tide.