From shore, long ago, I watched you -
Upon a lone protrusion amid an angry sea.
I said little then.
My admiration for your strength and will
seemed out of place.
A praise apart from my usual words.
My sympathy for your cause
seemed inadequate.
A trifle in face of the grand saga.

But now I stand upon such a protrusion myself.
The angry waves rise higher each night.
The winds have picked up a biting edge.
The rock that once seemed so solid and wholesome,
(now my bare feet slips)
and threatens to sacrifice me to the ocean.

Now I can say,
I empathize with you.
I admire your strength.

For how difficult is it,
to face so many pitying eyes,
to hear so much well-meaning advice.
To know no one else believes -
yet the heart cannot forget.
Doubts assail with every dark moon,
and cold water claws at the heart.
Helpful hands wishing to deliver you to shore,
and the rest jests carelessly.

I apologize if I ever thought you a fool.
To love unconditionally,
that is not the act of a fool,
but the makings of a hero.
If all moonlight abounds,
then the fool be the heroin
that failed to deliver you.

But I shall say nothing,
for my words cannot describe
all that is inside of me today.
To talk of those bygone days,
would they not bring ugly memories to you?
So why speak of them then?
You shall doubt that
my heart's capable of matching your devotions,
and how could I
cast you as the whereby hero?