…of the tides

Pale shades
on white canvas
trails etched
by an unseen hand
whose soft touch
still lingers
shimmering veils
of subtle beauty
shifting
in the gentle breeze

it carries me back
to the sea
and the fine
shimmering sands
sifting
through open fingers
for a brief moment
becoming fragile
ethereal creations

before returning
to their true state
awaiting
the gentle caress
of the tides
dislocated
by the ebb and flow
shifting back
and forth
in endless repetition

never still
as a heavy rock
or a mountain are still
never lost
as footprints
or memories are lost
never broken
as seashells
or hearts are broken

never free
as birds
or butterflies are free
never alone
as the moon
or the sun are alone
never silent
as time
or death are silent

but also
never empty
as a desert
or a heart is empty
never empty
as the night
or the soul’s abyss
is empty
a part of something
vast and eternal
© Ann Bagnall