Ocean’s Edge

We passed beneath the lampposts on the sidewalk by the beach,

And heard an old song playing in a pub across the street.

A favorite from before my time. We stopped. I sang along.

(If I recall, this marked the first time you had heard the song.)

The stars were watching us that night, as we approached the pier.

The clouds accommodated their clear view as we drew near.

The ocean carried waves to us, requesting no reply.

Creation seemed content and pleased to simply meet our eyes.

You know, I can’t remember much of all there was to see.

I recollect the water, and that you were next to me.

No anxious rumination, or preoccupation more

Than only weightier awareness of a world within the shore.

And this may make no concrete sense, but that’s the catch with words:

Important ones cannot be merely thought, but must (or ought) be heard

And if they seem absurd, one hopes at least the teller knew

To wait until the time was right to set them free (and then see what they do).

Exhausted after all the day’s festivities were done,

My face revealed my fuel had been depleted in the sun,

But I had waited pondering for long enough alone,

And so I tried my best to share things pondered and things known.

And the stars were trying hard to understand,

And my heart, by tired brain, was nearly choked.

And the ocean carried waves away again, away again…

But you were there for every word I spoke.

And backs against a bench, inclined to raise our gazes high, we saw

The little lights and wondered at the world within the sky.

I wonder now, if there were neither gravity nor fear,

Would either one make plans to leave and swim the gap from here?

And higher, farther, further, deeper in, what would we see?

Celestial bodies swirling ceaselessly in their capacious sea.

And if black space erased the dreams in us, by stars outshone,

Could any earthly body call it home, call it home…

In quietness we sat. Two drifters, stiller than the breeze,

While others drifted by our bench, we talked and took our ease.

It was enough to recognize a kindred spirit’s eye,

And occupy the shallows of this vast expanse of sky.

And yet we know the lure of leaving just because one can,

For many take to sailing, never to return again.

And dark Atlantic waters gleam with gold in secret places.

And treasures are revealed, but only at the ocean’s paces.

And restless seekers know that they dive madly, only laying claim

To turbulence that tears their hearts, in storms they cannot tame,

Where expert navigator’s plans are empty-headed notions,

Unless drawn in by light as permeating as the ocean.

A tide that floods their souls, to guarantee that though they live, the current’s

Grip is on their hearts to show they are not theirs to give.

The life they once knew ends in the immersion, when they choose

To be received, and in the voice of many waters be infused.

And here we stand at ocean’s edge, with shifting sand beneath,

To hear the emissary surf lay whispers at our feet.

Harbouring acquaintanceship of ebb and flow, and knowing

Paradoxical contentment though our heart’s desire is growing.

This water carries messages, and carries grains of sand away,

And we are all a little different now than we were yesterday.

But on another night, the Light will draw us to the shore, and then

We’ll leave, to know an ocean’s depths. And we will not return again.


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