I dream once again of the sea, of my Beloved standing above it. He does not have wings in this dream, he is simply there.
He is draped in red and gold, and as he lifts his hands a storm begins.
When his hands suddenly lash out, the sea does the same, the storm slamming out. Behind me, I hear pillars cracking.
He is now the eye of the storm, all his pain and rage and grief surrounding him.
Behind me, a temple falls.