The Shadowed Sea (Poem by Eleanor Moor-Laine)

And when the shadowed sea slicked, The dead moon of the sea was watchful, And in its glare, with thy dead streams, Lapped once with earthly stars, And there birthed the era to be Beyond the words that melt with wax Upon the structured shines of light, Between dreams and eidolons, And I’d remember, day passing, Memory was dark and lit by dead moons Thousands of them into the mire, Alone with sorrow in its glaze, Alone with the lurks of darkness Wrathful by a shore’s blanketed leaf That was adrift between the bones and rivers Of this eden of sorrow, alone. And when the shadowed sea slicked, The dead moon of the sea was watchful, And in its glare, with thy dead streams, Lapped once with earthly stars, Eras crept upon, sooner than the last, With time as a wasted notion, alas, With memory darkly splintering upon the glass strained, As the lone star in the night, Weeping bitterly to its breast; And below by a dozen little softened moths in lamps, tucked, Was the remembrance of that sweet sound of wings, And the unlit darkness of the morning to come.  And when the shallow shores Caressed my hands and made them clean with salt, I’d sit back and know of my sorrow  And everything that I’ve lost.