Writers 
THE SILENT MEMORY OF MISSING YOU
I the ocean loves
The moon
But the moon only sees me when it needs a reflection of its handsome beauty.
I the ocean have tried, even in anger,
for my waves or even a touch of my waters on the moon.
I have stretched myself beyond my shores,
hoping that somehow my love would reach you.
Finally we see at stormy nights,
but the ships don't let me behold you.
They cross between us like walls,
carrying people toward places
while I remain here, waiting.
At slow and steady nights,
the moon seems to always ask for my reflection.
Out of love I give,
but only the reflection I behold,
nothing more.
I look around me,
and inside me I see all giving
in an equation of a balanced plain field.
I give my waves,
my tides,
my silence,
yet I wonder what the moon gives back.
But I remember the wise turtle once told me that
The sun loved the sand
by burning it into a beach,
but the sand sees it not.
Perhaps love can touch you
without ever being held by you.
Perhaps some hearts are oceans,
always giving, always reaching,
while some hearts remain moons,
only coming close enough
to borrow their light.
Still, I look toward the heavens.
I just hope the stars meet my sky
Well one day.
