A Long Walk on the Beach
I spend perhaps, too much time on empty beaches,
walking from nothingness to nothingness,
Eyes fixed inward, the scenery mattering less than the peace.
Brokenness affects each of us differently. This I have learned.
My own has left me in a constant need for tranquility and time
for my slow mind to move from thinking to knowing.
So do not ask me what I saw. What I did. I did nothing.
I let it find me. Heal me, at least for another day. Certain at last
that the few things I know, the very few, are true.
About this poem
The older I become, the less I feel I know. Oh, but those few things! They are rock.