The waves arrive, then fade away,
no voice to call, no need to stay.
A breathless hush, a whispered sigh,
beneath the vast and empty sky.
The moonlight shimmers, cold and bright,
a silver path through endless night.
Yet none may walk, nor none may be,
the keeper of this silent sea.
The rocks stand firm, the tides still turn,
old lessons lost, no soul to learn.
The echoes crash, then fade to none—
a song unsung, a race unrun.
No footprints grace the shifting sand,
no grasping mind, no reaching hand.
Only the gull, adrift, alone,
rides on the wind, a ghost unknown.
No past to mourn, no fate to find,
no weight of hope, no tethered mind.
The sea just is—no less, no more,
no distant dream, no distant shore.
And so it waits, untouched, untamed,
with nothing held and none to blame.
It needs no watcher, seeks no name,
forever vast, forever same.
A drifting soul may stand and stare,
yet silence speaks—no wisdom there.
The sea does not, the sea will be,
a boundless thought, a thought set free.
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