It Became Empty Here

The waves used to form
Fantastical shapes
That were so stable

They didn’t seem waves.
They seemed to be real
Things that filled the view

From where you floated
To the horizon,
And it was as good

As solid land, real
And complicated
And interesting.

Then one night you slept
Too long or too deep,
And when you woke up

The waves were only
Waves, self-similar
To the horizon.