it comes and goes
in and out
the loud thunder, the sweet thrill of the waves
bashing the shore with its cold and gritty hands
it knows not what it does
but instead keeps to its steady rhythm,
the dance it has done for thousands of years.
leaving and returning
churning the granules of sand, shells, and rock to our feet.
the gifts from a world completely separate from our own
a dark, cold place populated with its own citizens
conversing in the languages originated from the pulls of the moon
a third world
so distant, yet so overreaching
if the waves were able to reach to the sky what new and different things would it say?
would it be easier to understand
or would even more questions flutter to the surface, revealing new mysteries for us to solve?
on and on and on
attacking and retreating
the sands of the world.