What we have found is only a platform for the sea:
The pebbled sand of the beach
A cliff so worn one does not realize
The mountain beginning
The clouds do not descend with us
down the steep steps.
The pale blue sky embeds itself
upon the soft mottled blues of the water—
warm between your feet.
Come skip stones with me on the ocean
Your mind, made flat and smooth
grinding against the world,
skim it low across the surface:
You cannot hear the splash
above the crashing waves.
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