by Cliff Beck.
I
Stand in awe as low tide exposes endless stretches of glistening gold.
The vastness infers permanence,
re assurance that there is a forever more.
But look at the fields by the shore
with fences hanging in mid-air,
their disrepair a monument to the futility
of failing to go with the endless ebb and flow.
See here how the path has been buried in drifting sand;
land becomes sea which in turn becomes land.
Children watch as sandcastles wash into the sea;
lovers seek security and guarantees
while the rising tide dissolves their footprints in the sand.
Think on the fate of Doggerland.
II
In a dance with time
change slowly traverses the universe
like a soft sea swell
eroding all the marks we make,
confounding future plans,
creating opportunities in subtle discontinuities;
moments that curb the urge to have, to do
and give us the space to care, to be,
to reassert our humanity.
What is concrete will not go with the flow
but weeds will grow when and where it cracks.
Buddleia will take root in chimney stacks,
butterflies and bees will feed on the flowers,
the seeds will rebuild the garden and its leafy bowers.
Ivy will cover the walls
of the towering halls
where the corporate spectacle,
at once detestable yet respectable,
holds us in its hypnotic gaze
as we languish in the digital maze
built to defend their status quo
which in the end will surely go
just as all things must pass,
making space for
new ways to overcome the profanity
that places greed above need
and brutality above humanity.
The sea change will lap gently on the shore
quietly washing away what came before.
Progress will be incremental, slow;
we cannot reap until we sow,
turning moments into momentum,
taking every opportunity to nurture and grow.