This is just sand, slivers of silicon

Heaped in a random pile.

That is just ocean, mere megalitres of saltwater

Obsequious to the moon.

And yet here, on this beach, I could walk to heaven.

With my toes subdued and enfolded,

And my mind liberated and distilled,

Rescued from the tsunami of time.

Here time is a zephyr, moving languidly, 

Modulating pace to mood.

This is its true nature: it never was

A commodity, to be wasted or saved.

These grainy plains smooth out the creases

On the brow of my existence.

The white noise of the white crests

Subsumes the sound of my fear.

In this brief remission from frantic deliberation

I sense the miracle.

I am infused with infinity.

Almost, I am cured of mortality.