Tog, Mujîko, You and Me (A Dream Sestina)

The sea sits on the sky.
Your eyes are wide with terror.
I sit and wait for Mujîko
and sample the taste of ill-ease
while the breeze of the war blows away,
to scatter the sky with contempt.

Tog, in sartorial contempt,
raises his arms to the sky
and wishes his sentience away.
Wonder replaces your terror,
weariness my ill-ease.
I have nothing to wish on Mujîko.

Tog never much liked Mujîko,
and oft held a mild contempt.
He thought of the war with ill-ease -
the war diseased even the sky,
made of old joys a terror
and scattered the old life away.

Sentience fades away -
sartorial grace on Mujîko,
who rides from his smoke-shrouded terror
viewing us plebs with contempt,
even diseases the sky
and leaves the earth shrunk in ill-ease.

Tog's hands are wrung in ill-ease,
but wonder's not all ebbed away.
He finds his release in the sky,
can shrink the image of Mujîko -
then feels a mild contempt
for the preoccupation with terror.

Nonsense, this trite talk of terror,
though valid the sense of ill-ease.
A mind consumed by contempt
scatters all life away.
Then at last comes Mujîko,
and sees the sea sitting on the sky.

Your terror has all ebbed away,
but in ill-ease lies Mujîko.
There is no contempt in the sky.