thoughts from the porch (still on the beach) ‘world’s apart’…

thoughts from the porch (still on the beach) ‘world’s apart’…

what a strange turn of events this vacation has been, I come here to escape the masses and now they are here en masse, at least compared to this time of year most years, so where can I escape to? the only refuge left, as the bars and restaurants rev up, as the cars line up, the beach becomes a haven, most folks I suppose look for the sun and sand, I am more for the sound of the shore, the hotel pool bar is in full swing as I walk by, some country song is blaring, I couldn’t tell you which one, not my scene, I get to the boards that lead off to the beach, take off my shoes where the boards disappear into the dunes, no need to get them full of sand, the sand is cold, expected, I walk away from the direction of the town, as the sounds fade into the forward sound of the ocean crashing, I find the line just beyond where civilization has no longer hold on the audio, the beach is still lit from backdrop behind me, but here I am, just deep enough on the beach to blank out the world, only a matter of feet, but that is all that matters, I here some voices here and there in the dark, but no one approaches, or if they do they are mere shadows, what I mistake for a person turns out to be the warning sign for the jetty, all the artificial light behind me, all the smiles, the laughs, the music, all the normal draw, but here I am more enamored with the stars, and even the stardust in between, there seems to be motion, for surely there is, but the earth is also moving, spinning, so which of these is? both I suppose, but only my perception sitting here on the cold sand, I bury my bare feet in, I feel like I am evaporating into the sky, actually perceiving the world draining me into that expanse, something I have felt before, like those first nights of cold as you watch your breath take form, except this is like smoke, mist or steam, streaming off of my soul, but no panic, only calm, to become part of the cosmos, the possibilities, for as ancient as the ocean is, there is only so much to this marble, as amazing as she is, I wish to travel to the stars, in whatever form, past this limited life, there must be more, or I hope there is more, the answers, or even uncontemplated questions out there, up there, I feel the pull…
running my hands through the sand, reminds me of sandcastles, how we would build them on the water’s edge, always thinking we could out smart or out maneuver the ocean, never thinking for a minute we would lose, youthful optimism (some may say naivete, I say no), maybe that is just who I am, or always was, even now, that I know the inevitabilities, I still fight for the sandcastles, dredge trenches to oppose the incoming tide, for what else is there?
the beach looks lunar at night, frozen footprints from those who have been, the same stars, no sounds from animals, the birds have gone to sleep, craters and valleys all around, the same color, the same bland color all around, the only savior, here at least, the sound, the constant purr of the evening ocean sliding beneath the dunes, the tune that surely is the oldest known, to all land
.

thoughts from the porch (beach edition)…

thoughts from the porch (beach edition)…

6:50pm
the sand is cold, I could wear shoes, I know, but that is not the essence of the beach for me, the volleyball courts are empty, for some reason I think it bad karma to cross them, the lines defined that is, silly I guess, but we all have our idiosyncrasies, a stiff steady wind pushes in from the ocean, my journal’s bookmark flapping wildly about like some worn flag that has seen one thousand seasons and as many storms, so I walk toward the remains of the sunset, somewhere in the back of my mind this seems a warmer path, maybe it is just the exercise of walking in sand, feet sinking in, there are a few other travelers here, as I suppose there would be, or at least should be, there is the inner conflict of wanting to share such a place and yet commit it all for your own, both thoughts feel at home in my mind but I suppose I do not own this open secret, so here you are, welcome, the rush of the waves provides constant sound, I hear nothing of humanity at the moment, not a drop of the usual din seems to reach my ears, except the wind, not howling, not screaming, nor a gentle hand, somewhere in the limbo that lies between all those, a rising firm calm if you will, gulls glide silently above, a couple walks by with their young child, also silent, I can not accurately describe the golden shimmer of the leftover tide in the sand and fading sunlight, wave upon rolling wave, maybe this is the only timeless thing I may ever encounter or perceive, back there, just some hundred or so feet, the supposed real world, none of that has ever felt like this inside my bones, is this abject loneliness? I have always been an optimist, no, I am not lonely even if I am quite alone, I just feel something missing, perhaps…
I can feel the darkness of the rest of the beach creeping up my back behind me, I do not dare to look and become a pillar of sea salt, no, I look forward to the only hope I have, the only light left, even with a useless breath, might I, fight the inevitable –
with this, a moment, an experience, a performance on the oldest stage, might even Homer blush, for he knew, as do I, our temporal nature, among nature, while born of gods this realization, or born of science, much the same, these waves have seen many eyes before mine, and many more still when I am gone, for at least I was this once, graced with the best seats in the house.

a beach musing…

a beach musing…

I wonder how many others have wandered here, how many other feet, how many years, generations, for I surely have
I was here
I have taken things from this beach, and perhaps this beach has taken things from me, time at least,
such little impact yet I feel
I feel some sense of ownership, pride I guess, ego
the wind churns, and the tide turns
the waves crash, the gulls hang there, standing in mid air
and I all I want
is to belong.

the ocean (a poem riff)

the ocean (a poem riff)

male tourist walking along empty beach and admiring view on ocean
Photo by ROMAN ODINTSOV on Pexels.com

wading along the shore
looking for shells
not sure what I might find
or what I am looking for

in sand the footsteps stretch
soft sandy trail
tracing my path
so others may know

my passage fades
within the writhing tide
memories erased
within the compass of time

and the moment-

I will turn
into those waves
to be swallowed
from whence I came