Why

Why is it I am always the sea
and you are always the moon?

and for that matter, who is the man
watching the flocculent clouds
float by on rippling tidal pools?

is it my opulence, my steadfast might
crashing against these shores as the eons pass?

is it your control over me, my morning and night?

is it our gentle drift apart,
until that day all when all you can do is look at my picture

if not for the nameless stranger
with the fine sand under his feet
perhaps we would have lived in vain