Torrent tide.

In mist a of a play he sang a tune
as wild as the twilight seas

The captule slid into the looms
Of his lumbered fragile dreams 

What torrent tides the moon is standing,  in watchful eyes
That gaze below 

Without a doubt he had much strength,  but could no longer row

That evening in shapeless water 
His breath had met the tides 

And as he wept his eyes they slept

The stage was closed on either side.