Bring me the sea today, my love. I will
wait here, and when you return I will
divide it into quarters. Two for the fish;
one for us, because greed is an unlovely
indulgence; and the final quarter for the moon,
our barren sister whose faithful orbit
has from afar swayed the tides since
long before human eyes admired her
infertile charm. Let she who borrows sun’s
luminescence also be clothed with earth’s
own cloak of blue, to soothe her arid
craters and create true tranquility.
Once our satellite is sated, I will appoint
you heir to the morning. Each mauve-tinged
dawn that rises diligently over our newly
acquired waters will forever be yours.
We will store them all away, preserved in
a trove of insurmountable beauty. We will
browse through this ever-growing cache
in the night’s lonely hours, showing off the
most stunning examples to our visiting
friends at weekends. Sea and sunrise, the
emissaries of grace and drama, will endlessly
extinguish anxiety and annul all temptation.