My mother was a butterfly,

My father was the Sea.

I come from the pull,

The moon casts on the waves

I come from great skies,

The crack of the lightning.

Lavender light,

Washed out by the rain in the night.

Palest of lilacs,

Pounding the earth.

Streaking gray skies,

To a pebbled shore,

Cast in relief, bleak down below

I come from thunderheads,

That bear heavy with pain,

Heartless are the bluffs,

Indifferent to your name,

Thankless are they,

For the rain.

Let loose torrents of tears,

Onto unfeeling cliffs.

Perched high above,

The ever ceaseless pounding,

Of waves at war,

With once ancient stone,

Now crumbled to sand, 

Silence soft beneath my toes.