Summer moonlight,
the sea is still and
at high tide,
the air scented
in a final glow
of sunset.
I call to you:
come and see,
look or, rather,
listen to the scene.
Hear the surf roaring
on the pebbles,
the sound of profound sorrow
stretching right back
to ancient times.
You tell me
you think there was
another instance,
even further back,
when the earth
was new and
the sea consoling,
and nothing came between
man and God.
But this evening
we hear only sadness
and nostalgic loss
in the sound of the waves
breaking and retreating
from the shore.
Turn to me and kiss,
as there is no peace
or certainty
in this ebb and flow
of human misery,
when the breath of
the night wind strokes
the vast edges and
naked shingles
of the world.
SETTING THE SCENE