The End of a Kingdom

I understand the yearning
for unalterable tides
when in the throes
of unpredictable
ups and downs
of fierce emotions
locked in that tower room
isolated from your friends
with no family to knock
and plead for you
to come out
and join the world.

The Moon must seem
like the utmost enviable
consistent companion
as you gaze out
from that tall window
across the broad estuary
on vigil for that regular
inrush of seawater
each time She returns.

Almost it is understandable
(no, just barely is it “almost”)
why you despair of the light
for night tides do not calm
that fevered obsession
with normalcy’s illusion.
You are too far from the source
to feel the pressure of that surge -
it must be seen in light to be known
and to fully appreciate it’s coming.

Rises the dawn - you are there
silhouetted behind the glass
watching out over your realm
for Her return in orbit overhead
and the lively accompaniment
of liquid adoration to Her
irresistible attraction
though you must at times
wait hours for its fulfillment
while faithful servants still tool
below in your neat gardens
and fishing boats quietly
gather your sustenance.