The Trip
I am each stone tossed around,
each droplet of sea mixed in,
pounding each stone, churning,
in time beating me smooth,
each impact, more homogenous,
trapped in the battle of land and sea,
an eternal ebb and flow,
crasshhh, another seamless brother,
broken in battle. Oh woe to
what was I, no more, lost,
treading on frequencies that can
carry I home, no longer anything but
the present, an old soul,
given new perspective in a shell
of life, born of a spore.
(Note: inspired by a shamanic walk with a friend in the dark of a winter’s night along a
stretch of wild and (nearly) untouched of Suffolk coastline.
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