Ocean-edge is my dwelling place, lapping
Surf meets sand, here in quiet footsteps
I tread, where wetness persists, rushing
And retreating surf, footprints washed
Away. Was I really there? Perhaps I am
Invisible, without substance, vaporous,
Seagrass thin, rising effortlessly to cloud
And light, soul sailing on sea breeze.
On lonely stretches of sand, I linger,
Narrow isthmus ocean-flat, no strength
Against storms, over-washing waves,
Meeting, touching surf, vulnerable sea-
Grass clumps. What meaning does it
Hold? Past or present, transience often
Unperceived, memories of ancient worlds,
Distant voices yearning for new life.
Ocean dawn returns, reassuring rising
Light, moon-side of waves appear dark,
Clinging to night, silver moon fading or
Lost amongst billowing sea-clouds, as
Wingéd seabirds move from feathered
Sleep to flying low along beaches. Thus,
Seashores are my home, surf and foam,
Few footprints in wet sand.
For more on Thera or Thoe, see this link:
Thanks for reading.