and yet, it manages to swell again;
the sadness is lamenting again.
your offerings of peace to
the governing sea-god is rejected.
the ceasefire you’ve signed is
broken over trivialities,
ushering in waves of the
morose musings you’ve
kept at bay. your offshore
fisheries are visited by
Ebisu – fishing nets
full of neatly-packed
morsels of bereavement.
you, a fool –
mourning over something
that never existed.
