There is comfort in a beach.
To gaze on stone worn down
To endure as sand.
Sheet metal folded like pastry,
Branches sculpted by time. People endure.
To hold a world of colours between fingertips,
A galaxy of grains on your palms.
Listening to each wave’s sigh,
as your own Breath That Will come,
Watch cloud-made shadows lift
Bringing shimmering light. Wind
Making tears in your eyes.
An endless cycle,
Played out with the tide.
© Tom Tide 2016