on missing the Pacific (or God)

I'm not from this place.  This city, though surrounded in evergreens and hills, is full of rectangles and squares and is not where my heart abides.  My heart lingers on 5 acres of land which roars with the sound of the Pacific Ocean, not the traffic passing nearby; with a sea of daisies in the summer, not a neatly packaged garden; with wandering deer, swallows and even the neighbor's yelping donkeys. 

To soothe my aching heart I have tried to imagine that the sound of traffic is the Ocean.  It sounds similar, but who wants to gaze upon a sea of cars?  The stars are rarely visible due to a street light, but if I try hard I can almost convince myself that it is the warm orange glow of the moon lying across my bed.  But I never can quite convince myself... I know it's not my moon, for where are the stars in this milky sky?

it isn't that I miss it
but, oh, I do
the lights, golden twinkles
like God, God searching for me
every night
every month with an "R" in it

(don't know how that works -
must have something to do with the harvest)

Him, there on the Ocean
lantern, looking
and I always wondered how to get there
quickly

now I'm in a valley
He is on the hill
He - Buddha, Jesus, Mohammed
all watch for me
golden, twinkling

is there any difference -
Ocean or Hill?
are we any closer?

if I don't think too hard,
in an instant, I'm at the Ocean
and He is there
always drawing near