We Foresaw a River

The Ocean seemed a river, you held me on her shore.
She carried me far away, down her banks and e'r flowing streams.
Streams we dared not indulge our eyes with,
Embracing the strength of a fortressed rock in her kingdom,
Knowing we could not crumble against her.

How I loved the ocean, her symbolism of your warmth,
Her vastness conquered by your strength, as you carefully enfolded me inside.
We pretended with paper sailboats, commanding over her steady waves,
Saying the wind would blow me back to you,
The Ocean's currents were ours to direct.

Now I stand on the banks of a mistaken river, beaten with understanding.
Humbled by the force of the Ocean,
Effortlessly undermined when I lay still in your arms.
She is no river, her depths unfathomable to man.
Her course rougher to the lone sailor, than any trial foretold.

And though alone I see her strength and shutter,
Desperation consumes my every ounce of being,
To conquer her once more, and meet you on the deeply familiar shore.
To rest easy in your arms, as we point out at the river,
Confident of the traveled and known, governing her waves again.