You look perfect from far away that I don’t care how imperfect you are, to come without hello and go without goodbye. Or maybe you murmur “Hello terrain; goodbye infinity. Goodbye shoreline; hello again infinity” in your language. Maybe in invisible ripple. Or attached to the zephyr. Or in a silent sad song.
But you remind me of repetition that never ends. A wanderer without destination. A good news without addressee. A story without epilogue.
You remind me of how I want to die; at peace; and a list of what songs should be looped on my funeral. Someday. I. Sea. You.
You look perfect from far away.