In silent revolt, we met.
Between the quivering line
Of sunrise and poetry,
Boundless waves spoke
Of fervor uncharted,
echoing through
the distant pulse of
time-touched stars.
With whispers made of salt,
We are navigators without ships,
Lost, but with intent,
To reason with the sea’s depth,
Forever swimming,
In the rich current
Of unscripted love.
An impulse to defy
The moon's tranquility,
We fight with breaths stolen
From waves that
Archive our dreams
Between here and the stars,
The ink of tides sits
Composed yet unruly.