Monday, March 31, 2008

by Ira Eden

Rolling swell to kiss the land,
falling back to crash the advance.

Flowing in a row of building ripple,
bow down to the sandy temple.

In the distance nothing is still~
ever moving windy mountains.
Hills and vales change location.
The sea whispers to the shore:

"I must come in now to soothe your wounds,
to wash away the footsteps."

Lightly caressing the rising mass,
then receeding back into itself.


Muara Ujung Genteng, West Java, Indonesia

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