my insomnia has gifted me unexpectedly
on this pre dawn morning.
i share the beach
with a single sand plover and a large work crew of sandbubbler *****
as they work their spherical graffitti magic.

i expect if i thought long enough,
my mind may make the practical connection, between the darting and bobbing of the stiff stilt,
red, legged bird
and the hyperalert scurryings of soft shelled, orb infatuated, crustaceans.

but, i prefer to play peekaboo witb the sun,
as it peeks it's sleepy rotound rim over the rippling bedsheets of the ocean's horizon.
eyes blinking, crafting opulent dusky lavenders and apricot oranges,
that meander lazily across, the brightening skybed.

i am alone on the beach until,
the next soul comes
this is my kingdom.
i stand firm and
breathe the tang of salted lands.

there is a deep silence
in my soul,
which i take to be completeness.
with neoteric expectancy and unchained exuberance,
i turn and run along
the firm sand's, edge of the high tideline leaving fading, ephemeral footprints
behind me,
scattering the little crabworkers every
which way.
i run in rhythm with the crashing waves
and we eat up the sand
until i am spent.

i sit and watch as the riders of the wave arrive.
their lithe young frames silhouetted by sunlight,
they stand at ten feet tall.
i wave and hand my kingdom over to the knights on fibreglass coursiers.
they mount their steeds
and begin the morning's tidal hunt,
for the perfect wave

Silence.
Silence - raw, serene,
Loud silence that
Crushes eardrums and fingertips,
Sinking into creases in dry, cracked skin,
Collecting like silver-black rain
In drops on red lips, ebony eyelashes.
Silence - green and young,
Fresh and completed,
Bending around waists and ankles
Swishing smoothly through gold-brown hair
The color of ripe wheat waving mutely in a
Prairie breeze.
Silence - huge and dark,
Clinging like shadows to necks and ribs,
Tying the moon hand and foot
So her pale lips won't move,
Stillness reigning in the hearts of the maidens,
Corners hiding hushed scurryings
Of the night.
Silence - weird, wonderful
Creating fields of green rivers that
Noiselessly laugh, bubble quickly off to Dreamland
Leaving a world of weighted mirrors
That are filled with God's reflection,
Whispering words I cannot hear in
A perfect world of
Silence.

We stand, separated by dozens of hundreds,
Crowded together, pebbles on the rivers' shore,
Jostling for space to breathe.

We stand, and the dozens of hundreds become dozens,
and then none. The cutouts crumble, the wax figures melt,
The space between us is clean and clear.

Your eyes find mine, and mine yours.
The centuries unreel behind us, and ahead.
We see every life we've ever known.

There is a movie that plays in the spaces,
In the moments when our eyes meet before us,
And it is epic and endless.

No words. No motions. No gestures.
Our eyes are our language, our secret language,
And none but we can translate.

You and I are removed from the smallness,
And the thousand scurryings of tanned limbs
Crying to fill the cracks.

We are alone, you and I,
And everyone we ever were or
Ever will be inhale at once.