Oceans alive

wild with dreams,

cliffs stand,

Still,

Rising up,

a testament

of fortitude,

without some

resistance the

dream

will never take

shape.

Waves

crashing

an end

to begin

a new

form,

rising up to

meet the grace

that made the

granite

soar.

No story,

told

even those

that flow,

have

penetrated the

heart

within

the face,

sheer walls,

of strength

that can crumble

when meeting a

new swell,

just as a wave

dissolves

in Venus gaze,

the child,

the saint,

the martyr,

the hero,

all surrender

in her

embrace

at the end

of their journey.

We can never

know a secret,

not our own

nor anothers

and this is the

aeons wisdom

smiling as

unknown whispers

leave lips,

only to return

with a

lovers gesture.

Fires of passion,

never met,

halcyon days

quench the inspireds

thirst, long enough

to desire another sip

from the

chalice

of experience.

The tides are always

leaving or coming

ashore,

horizon

never met,

yet the sand

beneath feet

sinks, softens

and tantalises

towards distant

shores.

We leave to

return,

the known is revealed

by the Cliffs of Time

and the

unknown abounds

in the fathoms.

Alabaster Angels,

sing stories

home.

The sorrow

is known in

all of us,

the voyage

that drops

expectations

and penetrates

beliefs,

the sun will rise,

and set,

yet the

clouds loom

to convince us

otherwise,

so that we can,

gaze, steady, beyond

them,

to grasp the

ephemeral

is to

know loss,

and

also to

know this is

sure,

as time passing,

the ancients

know

they are babes,

cherubium glory

to be held

by the infinite

and know

the mundane,

not a minute,

can pass,

"cherish"

says the

Cliff Face,

"let go"

sings

the ocean,

somewhere

between worlds

in a

vast sky,

the stars

bear witness.

~ Porto Venere, 2018