Memory at Shoreline
An endless string of momentary forms
Imperfectly white, mottled with blue—the whole that I am is also part of something broader, greater, and more total than I alone. This invisible totality is taken in by an endless string of momentary forms, of which my body, turned by the hands of the sea, is but one.
Having been sieved through waves across many centuries, I am finally washed up at your pale feet one evening in late June. You take me in your hands and examine me closely. Perhaps you are remembering the sum of which we are both a part.
We make love in the grey sand. The faithful sun stays with us across the hours. Meanwhile, change is moving the water; it is our nature. The earth: our only anchor.
I am only here for a time.
I am only here for all time.
Beautiful! As always xx