Life is one long ocean strand
just touched by the horizon.
It surges, swells, and dips like dells,
and presses ever skyward.
Reaching shores unrecognized,
it slaps against a castle
then swishing foam, retreating home,
it heads for open water—
where whirling wind betrays the calm
in gusts and squalls and lightning,
and ships toss up then swelling down
in violence unabating–
sheets of ice spears split the screen
Of grey and gusty water.
And then, Pacific calm—
stretched out upon the water.
The gleaming glint of liquid fire
reflected dying sun.
And borne along by endless wind,
the slowly chop of waves
that journey on, all undeterred
. . . .
to catch the bright horizon.