he is inexplicable

he is inexplicable 
therefore I shall leave him 
on the rock of his own making

with the tide lapping 
and the seagulls crying 
and the far land receding

from the iris whilst the 
silence grows and the 
voices dim and I

cannot hear him calling me 
out over the gapped 
valleys of our passage

and the mountains of our 
walking - he is gone 
he is gone

I see the clouds mourn
and he clasps the hand of one
I do not know

and leaves a trail of 
sorrow in his wake 
as his ship set sail

out to sea
to meet the rock
its destiny

the wreck he did not see 
the day he left me
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