The P O E M I S T

A Copy of the Sea

Maybe, then, the sea is a copy of,
Something better, in a place, somewhere else.
So when we look lovingly upon it,
We see only a reflected lesser wealth.
I imagine how moved we would become
Faced with that of which our sea is mimic.
Does this place lie somewhere else under this sun?
Where is this site of so fine a relic?
Would such an ocean be of mercury?
Would trees stand upon the banks of its shores?
How would its beauty improve upon our own sea?
Should this land be the source of our remorse?

I can conceive of no answers to give,
So witness, our ocean reborn, relived.