He was my storm
I was his shelter
He, with dagger and compass
I, with torn heart
Stood stone still
A bringer of darkness
I was his light
Shipwrecked and broken
I picked his ruins
Salvaged the grit and the glass
He shivered from fever
I lit the fire
As he dreamed of ships in the night
Of sirens and seas, of pirates and plunder
I polished his pieces, held shards to light
Disturbed and addicted to Aigaios’ charm,
He swanned in the clutches of tempests
I swayed with symphony and sound
He was my storm
I was his shelter
Or was it the other way round?
~ Oceans and Storms
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