Two oceans and the crucible of man,
Lay between my fingers and the palm of your hand.
At night the shadows, through my dreams, clutch.
A chill so deep at their clawed touch.
They seek to steal it, they have no right.
To take the warmth that is born of your sight.
And when I wake in the deepest dark,
To find my heart's fire a wandering spark.
I shut my eyes and feel the rain,
Those powerful droplets of salted pain.
That signal your depature.