Footprints

Whenever I look at the sea,
a shiver runs through me,
a trace of envy rises
watching the swelling, spreading waves.

The sea scatters its colors
along the shore—
waves heavy with shells arrive in anger,
yet squander their riches
on a single pearl or two.

One after another, countless,
they reach the shore and disappear again.
I watch flocks of circling birds—
diving at the sight of the waves,
catching fish, then rising back into air.
Shell or pearl—
both are left behind on the sand.

I have heard
the sea shelters an entirely different world
within itself.
The water may be salty,
yet it is not separate from my world—
we are not apart from one another.

Moving with the waves,
along the edge of the shore,
over this sand, I keep walking.
I watch my footprints
fade beneath the waves—
sometimes erased in anger,
sometimes as if laughing.

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