My Unwavering Shore

Those who go across the sea,

Those who go for unseen gold,

What will you bring when you return?

Will your hands be full of ruby stones

Of mermaids from the Milky Ocean's waves?

Will you bring the song they sang,

That melts salt from a sailor’s heart,

A melody drawn from the ocean's mind,

Whispered through depths where shadows bind?

Or a secret folded in conch-shell curves,

To echo on my waiting windowsill, a calm resolve?

Tell me, will your eyes still hold that southern starlit map

You followed past monsoon dreams,

That ancient wisdom only oceans keep?

Or will they turn, like tide-washed shells,

Smooth and empty, gleaming — but gone,

Lost to currents, unknown to my gaze?

I do not ask for gold or pearls,

Nor chains of sunken emperors’ pride.

Bring me silence, shaped by distance,

A truth as deep as the sea's own mind, that doesn’t lie.

Bring me the echoes of your solitary stride,

Reflecting thoughts only my heart understands, of what endures inside.

Most of all, bring me yourself —

If not whole, then weathered,

With the vast sea in your soul, its knowing deep and old,

And the salt of the journey in your blood.

Return to my deep, unwavering wait,

A love held by my steadfast heart, echoing the ocean's fate.