Seashore

Sand stretches as far as the squint eye can see;
And here is the sea in its striking and beating,
Tiding its way until breathless it climbs
No further.

The eternal motion; yet totally motionless,
Onwards it rolls and it stretches, the ocean
Of hope, death and all life's creation:
Our mother.

The wetness, the winging, the spraying, the crying,
The soaring and winging, the living and dying,
The wind surge, the roaring, the screaming, the sighing:
Forever.

The birds on the waves, on the wing, on the sand,
The crashing of waves as they reach for the land,
The beauty of fury, the death of the bland.
All over.

Love is here present - but violent as death;
Her breeze's soft kiss becomes gale's foulest breath;
The blue azured sky is the storm's closest kith,
Whenever.

The God of creation is present right here
Where the birth of the process announces each year.
Hear the whirling and screaming of gulls in their fear,
Forever.