As Searchings Go


The searching’s slow,
As searchings go.
Moonrise does naught to slow
The ebb and flow
When one fails to find
What the shore has left behind.
Though who leaves who
When the waves leave first
And the shore remains to question you.
Alas the land that never goes
Here I stand and I shall see
If the sand shall go before me.
When washed away with the tide, we,
Become who we’re meant to be
And swimming back through the storm
To discover ourseleves waiting ashore.

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