The Path

Wet morning sand stick to my feet

 

while brown seaweed breaks into my path.

 

I travel to my beginnings toward the sea.

 

Watchful without pretention or notice

 

sounds of waves crashing and wind blushing

 

past me, as I step into the path.

 

On the shores morning and evening meet always.

 

Reflection of all time before me, and after me,

 

will continue long after my footprints are no longer

 

wet to my feet; deep into my path.

 

Copyrighted:  2016 CMMimg_1107

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