Infinity

My spirit floated on the tide
as it came in with its frills
then went out, sea calm
as glass.  I stared around,
tried to keep my spirits up
by watching the water move.

No-one was with me on the beach,
the strand of the world's end.
Nowhere beyond it.  No more
bends in the road.  I breathed
the cool air as I worked with
the damp sand, building walls

to stop the tide.  They did not
work.  All around me I heard
the birds, saw the colours
of the coastal flowers, pretty
in Spring.

I talked to someone then
a long way away and out
of time.  There was no
re-joining us to the root, the 

tree was cut long ago.  The
echo of his voice sounded
in the hollow chamber then
stilled to silence.

The wood floated quietly
in the water, carried gently
by the gentle tide, inexorable
as rock.  I could not
carry it, it was too heavy
for me, in spite of its beauty,
despite its golden whorls - 
the grain of years.  I had to

let it go, to be taken
by forces greated than myself -
as if I could have stopped them.

There are no words left here -
this place of fine sand, calm
water, gentle tides, soft
frills of white.  The lightning

comes and goes, above,
lights up the clouds with 
a God-like flash.  The rainbows
come and go, semaphore.  What
am I for, sitting on this sand
alone at the world's end?
The dune grasses blow.  I am

a hollowed-out barrel, wood
bent, stained and saturated
with all of life's brew, gone
now but the residue
tells tales of how it was
filled, and emptied, in all
the climes.

My feet sink softly in the sand
as I walk, I look at my
hands, wet from sea water,
they have carried me so far.

I will throw myself
out upon the tide
to drift with the current
past the sandbar
to a place I do not 
have to hide my scars.
I can see the horizon-line
from here - stretching to infinity.

previous poem

next poem