As an ebb and flow of both land and sea,
Where intense rests those conversations,
Between both accretion and erosion,
A slow instigation where values change,
But worth remains the same; existence,
If but a little different,
Even after a passing of storms.
What though, ventures forth,
Most intent on pushing back,
Such bounds to both sea or ocean,
A most spectacular of spectacles,
Nature’s self reclamation spilling,
Forth from deep within a warmest of hearts,
To emerge new possibilities and a balance,
We can hardly fathom at most times,
In nature’s ever changing narratives.
Though, as if navigators,
To natures dirt floor house,
We become lost getting two,
Different sets of directions
In finding a lost, missing room,
All stairs, doorways, windows, and passages,
Lit or not by moon or sun will lead one places,
Even on those long ways around.
As to share a minute or so;
Give one some paint and we,
Can paint above inside our minds,
To articulate bare bone rafters,
So as to hold all those cobwebs,
Sheltering each living story,
Still alive, and a roof to listen by,
As passing rain shares moments,
In new tales still yet to arrive,
On the winds to a new day’s morning.
Kind of goes with the weather here,
heated, humid without relief,
Listening to a Pacific Ocean,
Within an evening’s quiet moment,
Upon an unlit verandah looking out to sea.
Until next again to wait,
Behind a roaring waterfall,
To be caught up deep inside,
All those tumbling sounds,
Churning up every living fibre,
Within heart and soul all at once,
To the extent where stepping out,
Will make no sense, no sense at all,
But water like life, flows and travels,
Places we often don’t understand.
So when a song taps us on the shoulder,
And says remember us,
we can let go,
Free fall for a while,
And let their water,
Tumble around us,
Giving way to conversation,
Expression in what it means to us,
No matter who, when, or where in life.