It is where I go in search of quiet
A stillness buried in the crosshatch of crashing layers
A peace of unknown depths
A neverending better yet

It moves- and I with it
Fluid in our forming
A thousand years and these melting movements
Could move me to corrosion

It leaves its marks
Salt on the tongue
Another, driftwood, memory
Of all I've never done

And I know we shall return
Meeting on some far-off shore
Toes dipped in lukewarm stillness
The waves dredging me once more.