There are no answers,
just the outgoing tide
leaving a poem written
in the sand to be washed
away when the tide
comes in again.
I am lost in the detail,
the exquisite swirls
and rippled script
of its creation, I explore
each worm excavated hole
as if it hides
a secret truth within
when I know it doesn't.
Meaning is beyond
the cycles of the tides,
beyond my mind
and...
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