Star

Good enough: so I never returned. I no longer grieve
for a vanished return. All things are resolved by the sand-
and as part of the landscape and waves,
salt syllable or sea louse,
I, sovereign and slave to these shores,
surrender myself, shackle myself to my rock.
No free will for those of us who exist
as a piece of appearance,
no going for those who return
to themselves, to the rock of their singular being:
and the only perduring star is the sea.